#i have no idea where the fuck i am or what i’m talking about

[dodger-chan]

On this, a totally normal day, please enjoy this short scene featuring demon Steve Harrington:

“They’re con artists,” Steve asserted, rolling his eyes. “They’re nothing I need to worry about.”

It wasn’t that Eddie thought Steve was wrong. He’d read a book about their involvement in that possession and murder case in Connecticut five years back. It had certainly read more like fiction to him.

It was just that demons tended towards overconfidence. Or at least Steve did. Maybe that was more of a jock thing than a demon thing.

“You’re bound to the mortal plain by a two-bit ring from a Crackerjack box,” Robin snarked. “Forgive me if I’m a little concerned.”

There was that, too.

“I’ll have you know that ring cost me fifty cents. It’s solid nickel,” Eddie joked. But he kind of agreed with Robin. The ring was a flimsy object, and entirely incongruous with Steve’s preppy look. Even if the couple weren’t practiced demon killers, the ring would be an obvious target.

“So that’s why my finger keeps turning green,” Steve mused. “Look, I can’t let this stand, but one of you can wear the ring until they’re gone, okay?”

-------

Which was how Edde found himself twisting his old ouroboros ring around his finger, sitting in a diner booth across from Robin. Stealthily watching the demon hunters eat their lunch. Waiting for Steve to arrive. The wait wasn’t long, but it was tense.

Steve ignored them when he walked in, only paying attention to the couple seated behind them. Robin leaned forward and stole some of Eddie’s french fries.

“I think we’re in trouble,” she whispered. She was only half joking. They weren’t supposed to be there; Steve didn’t want either of them associated with a demon. But Robin was not about to let Steve face even fake demon hunters completely alone. And - coward or not - neither was Eddie.

He shushed her, keeping an eye on Steve as he sat down at the hunters’ table.

“I read the contract you signed with Susan Mayfield. Book rights to her daughter's story for a flat fee? Seriously? My deals are more fair.” Steve was facing away from them, so Eddie had to imagine the smug expression on his face. The older couple looked confused.

“Your deals?” The man asked, like maybe he hadn’t put it together yet.

“I’m sitting here right in front of you and you still have no idea.” Steve shook his head. “And you call yourself demon hunters. I knew you were just con artists.”

Understanding dawn on the woman first.

“You’re the demon,” she said, fear in her voice. “The one who killed those kids.”

“I am a demon. But no, I haven’t killed any kids in Hawkins,” Steve corrected. “Those three dead kids, the Mayfield girl’s injuries, that really was a human. People can be evil all on their own, you know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the man asked. He didn’t appear as afraid as his wife, but Eddie was an expert on posturing. The guy was about thirty seconds away from shitting his pants.

“Believe, don’t believe. I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to keep you from writing your little book and ripping off the American public with your absolutely true demon stories.” Eddie would bet good money Steve was rolling his eyes. “I’m here about this.”

Robin nearly turned around to see what Steve was holding even though she knew what it would be. Eddie kicked her ankle and she turned back.

“You see,” Steve went on, “I made a deal with the Mayfield girl’s brother. It means I owe her a certain amount of protection. So this contract you sweet-talked her mom into signing? We’re going to rework the terms. I’m thinking percent off the gross?”

-----------

Notes:

"that possession and murder case" refers to the Arne Johnson murder trial, where the defense tried to argue the killer had been possessed by a demon. The book was titled The Devil in Connecticut and published in 1983. It's also the inspiration for one of the Conjuring films.

Allegedly (and I'm not doing enough research to confirm it because this six hundred word story has enough notes already) the Warrens paid people flat fees for the rights to their stories and then made bank themselves off of books and films about the 'hauntings' and 'possessions.' Frankly, everything I've read about them makes them sound like unscrupulous con artists.

"two-bit ring from a cracker jack box" is a reference to a Firesign Theatre sketch (The Further Adventures of Nick Danger) released in 1969; Robin knows it from her parents.

Two-bit means cheap in general, but also two-bits refers to a quarter, so when Eddie says he paid fifty cents for the ring he's saying it cost twice as much as Robin implied (still pretty cheap)

I doubt Eddie knows for sure what alloy any of his rings are made of, but cheap jewelry often contains nickel, and nickel can turn your skin green.

"percent off the gross" is revenue percentage rather than a percentage of the profit, so Max can't be cheated out of money via creative accounting.

[little-lovett]

now then my friend

now to your

[exopelagic]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME BURROWS END WASNT FREE

[foxgloveinspace]

oh my god you gave permission to send vids and i lasted all of 30 minutes before needing to send something 😂

BUT!!!

iv crying 🥺🥺🥺 the love for iii these last few shows has melted my heart and clearly the bands too

https://x.com/vesseltoken/status/1734391886901616999?s=46

i cannot suffer alone with this one i’m so sorry

Well, as I watch this and suffer. here, sleep token official instagrams account second to last pic…. Our boy AdamRosssi knows what we want, haha.

🥺🥺🥺

Oh no……

[peapod20001]

Anyways before I forget again,

Does anyone else have meanings behind oc color pallets? Both for an individual character and when they’re part of a group??

[yuribalisms]

Lesbian or trans guy…. Lesbian or trans guy… lesbian or trans guy…. That is The question

[spencereid]

what does it say about me that i have the concept of death and the afterlife down pat but i can’t fucking figure out how the fuck i’m supposed to live beyond basic survival. what does that fucking say about me

[mysterious-corpse]

I think somethings rlly fucking wrong with me

[romantically-yours]

I desire romantically doing makeup with somebody

[lexcys]

★ observing rafe cameron x reader

summary: you were trying everything to hide the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at rafe, unbeknownst to you - he was secretly hoping you were

a/n: this is a surfer!rafe x shy!reader btw!! also this is like pretty much my first ever fanfic so I have no idea what the fuck I am doing so sorry if this is literal ass 😭 no mention of a fem!reader besides the fact that the womans bathroom gets entered

you felt the heat of the sun on your skin as you stepped out of the twinkie. the soft crash of the distant waves barely audible over the hum of the pogues voices

stepping onto the beach, a surge of excitement hits you. the day you and the pogues have been counting down to all week has finally arrived

you take one final glance into your bag, double-checking for anything you might have forgotten—sunscreen, snacks, a book, and a few other trinkets, satisfied you make your way over to your usual spot ready to take off your tshirt and shorts which hid your swim wear underneath, until you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye

rafe cameron

somehow the kooks had managed to pick the exact same date, place and time to visit the beach as you and your friends

while the others were hastly running towards the water stripping on the way down, paying no attention to the kooks, kie stayed back waiting for you

she was already in her bikini while your clothes weren’t even close to leaving your body and landing on the ground

''you coming?'' she asked, hand on her forehead shielding her from the burning sun

''umm'', taking a quick glance around you searched the beach in a, hopefully, unsuspicious way trying to locate rafe again

glancing down you turned your gaze elsewhere, you hoped the sudden heat entering your body was from the sun and not from the sight of rafe taking his shirt off

''I’ll join you guys later, I’m a little dizzy right now'', you spoke swiftly looking up at her, hoping to not get caught in the little white lie

all though kie nodded, the flicker of confusion in her eyes and a quick look behind you told you all you needed to know

you had never verbally stated your attraction to the him but you were pretty sure almost anybody could’ve guessed with the way you tensed up or seemed quieter and clumsier whenever he was in close proximity

taking off your top and shorts you shot a look over to the pogues who were already splashing and practically drowning each other. you giggled while settling down onto your beach towel before applying sunscreen and laying down on your stomach with a book in hand

even though your book was very interesting, the sight in front of you was much more enticing

rafe was currently riding a pretty common wave, yet you found yourself unable to stop staring

you adjusted your book hoping to hide the fact that you were practically ogling at the cameron boy

he was far enough out that you couldn’t make out the details but you still caught the way his hair stuck to his face, the way his body twisted with the rythm of the wave and the way he… kept turning his head towards you?

it seemed like he was looking for you, looking to see if you were watching him

cheeks burning, you try to push your delusions aside trying to find the passage you were reading earlier

you take another peek at him and by the the time you do, he was already out of the water, walking towards his friends with the biggest fucking grin, beaming with pride and confidence, already seeming to rave about the wave he just rode

hearing jj’s laugh you swiftly adjust and pretend to be reading your book that was definitely more interesting than staring at rafe’s wet body and stupid grin

while jj kept whining about how john b, supposedly, almost drowned him they both settled down on your left, luckily on the side where the kooks were lounging

fortunately he also kept talking which meant you were able to peep right past his face and steal short glances towards rafe

it was almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off of him. it didn’t matter where you would see him, you were always stealing glances or simply staring at him from a distance. others could call this stalking but you liked to call it observing, you liked watching him, but not in a creepy way, more so you were admiring him, he was pretty

you liked his side profile, the way his bangs framed his face, the way his eyes looked in the sun, the way his shirts hung onto his fit body - you noticed the way he was very articulate with his hands, which were always adorned with the same two rings, the way the corner of his lips turned downwards whenever he tried not to smile

noticing him facing you, eyeing your group, the staring quickly stopped

at this point the distance between the two groups was too small for your liking because of course the kooks had to settle down as closely as possible to the pogues - it was somehow impossible for them to keep their distance

given the short distance, whenever you actually were brave enough to look again it seemed like he was meeting your gaze, trying to maintain eye contact

heart beating way too fast and cheeks burning, you turn away from jj trying to initiate a conversation with sarah, who was sitting on your right

after a while of, luckily, managing to keep your head from spinning towards him, to meet his gaze - aside from the occasional looks to jj or john b whenever they were contributing to the conversation - you were desperate to get up, to empty your bladder

you dreaded getting up, fully aware that the beach bar was situated just behind the kooks, it meant walking past rafe and the mere thought of that unnerved you - every step would make you acutely aware of your surroundings, mind racing, until the very thought of moving felt like it might turn your legs into jelly

examining the scene quickly you notice half of the kooks gone, including rafe, they must’ve left when you weren’t looking - you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders while also immediately feeling a certain misery overtaking you

this unrequited crush was spiraling out of control

strutting over to the bar you take notice of ruthie with another girl sitting at one of the tables and kelce talking to the bartender seeming to be cracking jokes instead of ordering

walking past them you try to keep your gaze relatively low to avoid any sort of interaction. turning into the small hallway of the bar you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding

the calmness doesn’t last long because as you round the corner to reach the toilets you spot him, standing in front of the mens bathroom, phone in hand and looking quite bored

before you get the chance to look away he lifts his head and notices you, he smiles - you smile back, a very awkward smile

relatively quickly you turn your head away and enter the women’s bathroom. your head becoming a blur, suddenly already washing your hands ready to leave the bathroom

he must’ve left already, right?

''topper are you fucking coming, man?!'', you catch rafe through the door

your plan of immediately leaving and paying him no mind, began to falter two seconds after stepping out of the bathroom

''hey, y/n'', you hear from behind you, shit

you freeze up for a second, caught off guard, before composing yourself and turning around

immediately drawn to him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his hair had dried in quite a messy way, his slightly squinted eyes and the slight smirk splayed across his face

''how are you?'' he questions before you had the chance to greet him back

''I’m doing fine'', you manage to exclaim, nearly tripping over your words before adding the usual ''and you?''

you dig in your mind trying to recall the last time you’d exchanged words beyond the usual "hi" or "hey''

''ditto'',

apparently not completely satisified with your answer, he regards you for a moment, the stare causing a warmth to creep up your neck as you shifted uneasily

''why did your friends leave you all alone over there?'', rafe inquired with a raised brow - a hint of curiosity in his tone, ''they seemed to be enjoying themeselves''

letting out a soft exhale you answer him, attempting to maintain eye contact but faltering almost immediately, ''I wasn’t feeling so good'' was all you manage to muster before adding the word, ''dizzy'' in a rather whispered voice, as you lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t see through it

if he did, he didn’t let on ''are you feeling better now?’'

you nod quickly, meeting his gaze

looking up at him with those almost innocent eyes, he can’t help but offer, ''are you sure? I can get you a glass of water'', an unrecognisable sweetness laced his voice, softening his usual edge

taken aback by his unexpected offer you hesitate before denying his offer by simply shaking your head

he let out a quiet snort, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you struggle to give a simple answer

''what book were you reading?'', he asked, his smirk widening as he leaned further back into the wall, clearly amused at the way the conversation was turning into a playful interrogation, as if he found some strange satisfaction in making you squirm just a little bit

you froze, your mind going blank, searching for the title before realising you genuinely couldn’t remember, maybe because you weren’t actually reading the book

like a savior, topper emerged from the bathroom, a flicker of confusion passing across his face as he scanned the scene before moving past you both, muttering a quiet "let’s go," clearly directed at rafe

for a split second, it looked like frustration crossed rafe’s face, fleeting before you could overthink it, flashing you a smile he pushed himself off the wall and made his way past you

but before he completely disappeared out of view, he turned back with a smirk and called over his shoulder,

''hope you enjoyed the show earlier''

oh

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[joelsdagger]

that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night. 

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again. 

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?” 

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad. 

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you. 

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence. 

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend. 

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover. 

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. 

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip. 

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it. 

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it. 

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice. 

You need something new, something fresh, babe. 

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person. 

Trust me, it’ll be good for you. 

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind. 

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months. 

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes. 

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome. 

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember. 

Fuck. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.  

 And oh. 

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new. 

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring. 

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else. 

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.  

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.  

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires. 

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.” 

Confusion floods his features. 

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips. 

“She cheated on you,” you retort. 

“How did–” 

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.” 

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip. 

 “Hey, you raised him,” you joke. 

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug. 

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“What?” you ask. 

 “Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

 You look at him pointedly. 

 “Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little. 

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.” 

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch. 

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” 

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?” 

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify. 

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering. 

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks. 

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?” 

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them. 

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him. 

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again. 

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar. 

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease. 

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp. 

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom. 

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning. 

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate. 

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined. 

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.” 

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?” 

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words. 

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear. 

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so. 

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him. 

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness. 

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.  

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out. 

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk. 

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” 

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror. 

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be. 

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn. 

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it. 

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats. 

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites. 

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard. 

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him. 

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic. 

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh. 

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will. 

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot. 

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?” 

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly. 

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’  – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard. 

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.” 

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought. 

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock. 

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.” 

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?” 

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper. 

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release. 

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you. 

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him. 

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you. 

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you. 

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls. 

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip. 

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin. 

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror. 

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands. 

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock. 

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you. 

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.” 

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy. 

And then it hits you. 

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with? 

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one. 

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly. 

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters. 

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya. 

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth. 

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things  — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth. 

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more. 

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.” 

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. 

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give. 

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks. 

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you. 

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.” 

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out. 

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t. 

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you. 

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting. 

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun. 

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number. 

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo. 

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine. 

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong. 

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home. 

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel. 

He’s already watching you. 

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid. 

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash. 

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[onlymingyus]

Water

pairing; yoon jeonghanx f reader

genre; smut (minors dni), angst, fluff/romance, comedy

summary; being friends with benefits with jeonghan has never been what you thought it would but taking a trip to Paris with him and the rest of your friends while expecting to keep it a secret…that’s something completely different.

warnings; eating/drinking, alcohol, mentions flying in a plane, inaccurate french, a bit of self deprecating thoughts and feelings, hiding a relationship, idiots in love, oral (f receiving), fingering, jealousy, crying (from pleasure and not), petnames, unprotected sex, cum on skin/creampie – as always there might be a warning I am missing but do try.

w/c; 19k and some change (489 words on patreon)

a/n; as always I have to thank @junkissed for not only proofreading but also helping me with coming up with so many brilliant ideas. I also want to thank @wooahaeproductions for lending me her brilliant brain and offering so many beautiful ideas. -- after much thought i have decided to sporadically release some of my older patreon exclusives if and when i am feeling generous. since i am working on tkg and unable to release anything the way i would like to i posted a bonus for patreon subscribers and i am releasing this to you all here on tumblr. i hope you enjoy it. to those of you who were less than kind when i first posted it, i hope this teaches you a lesson of patience and humility. if you had been nicer to me this might have came to tumblr sooner.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“I’ll try not to slobber on your shoulder.” 

You roll your eyes with a faint laugh at Mingyu’s words as he sits on your right in the aisle seat. The “fasten seatbelt” sign had just turned off and a quick glance at your phone told you that the plane had been in the air for about an hour. It was going to be a long 13 hour flight to Paris and while Mingyu was settling in to take a nap, you weren’t sure you were going to be following suit. 

Jeonghan purses his lips, watching you shift in your seat. You looked restless and he understood the feeling. While he felt like he could get up and take a walk along the aisle, beside him, Dokyeom was snuggled up against the window, watching a movie on the screen in front of him. 

Slipping out of his seat, Jeonghan leans to bump his hip against Mingyu, only to make the man groan, opening his eyes in annoyance. You were looking up at your friend curiously, your brows furrowed as he pursed his lips and jutted his thumb back over to where he had been sitting just a moment before. 

“Trade with me.” 

Confusion slowly spreads across Mingyu’s face as he looks from Jeonghan to you and back up at the other man. Lifting his brows, Jeonghan sighs and waves his hands as if trying to hurry Mingyu out of his seat, as if he were in the wrong spot, when clearly Mingyu had known he was supposed to sit beside you. 

“What? You serious?”

“The fuck, you mean, am I serious? I’m talking, aren’t I?” Letting out another sigh, Jeonghan gestures towards Dokyeom once again.” Gyu…Go sit beside Dokyeom and cuddle with him. Clearly, you both want to sleep and Y/N isn’t going to. I want someone to talk to.” 

Groaning, Mingyu looks back at you as you give him a soft, pouty smile, reaching up to pat his cheek as he begrudgingly gives up his spot to Jeonghan. Sliding past the smaller man, Mingyu narrows his eyes at him, only to get a smirk in return as Jeonghan slips into the seat with a happy sigh. 

Dokyeom glances over to Mingyu as he slumps down in the seat, pulling his blanket over his legs, as he watches Jeonghan look over at you with a grin on his face. There was something weird about what had just happened but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Shrugging, Mingyu glances towards the movie playing in front of Dokyeom as he leans his head to rest it on his friend’s shoulder, watching it on mute as his eyes get heavy. 

“Jeonghan…You are so full of shit.” 

Your words draw Jeonghan’s attention as he adjusts his seat, leaning it back to get more comfortable beside you. It was going to be a long ass flight but his traveling companion had just gotten exponentially more attractive. 

“Why? Did I lie?” 

Rolling your eyes, you glance away from Jeonghan and out of the window as he smiles at you. Yoon Jeonghan was one of your best friends. When the idea of going on this group trip to Paris came up, you weren’t sure if you wanted to go but it had been him who had talked you into it. There were plenty of reasons not to go but in his opinion, there were even more reasons to go. 

Your relationship with Jeonghan was complicated. It hadn’t started out that way. You had met him along with the rest of your friends in college. All of you were studying different things but at the end of the day, it was your personalities that had led you all together. 

Kim Mingyu had been the first friend that you had made and your gateway into the group. Many others had come and gone but by the end of four grueling years at university, there were fourteen of you that had stuck together and now ten of you are on a plane for a once in a lifetime vacation. 

When you don’t answer him right away, Jeonghan lets his eyes run along your neck and up to your pretty face. He had always had a harder time than some of the others when it came to keeping it platonic with you. Then, last Halloween, Jeonghan found out he wasn’t the only one struggling with that feeling. 

Maybe it had been the alcohol or maybe it had been all of the tension in the air but in a dark corner of Seungcheol’s apartment, you and Jeonghan had shared your first heated kiss. That kiss had turned into a long conversation the next day, which led to an even longer discussion about how neither one of you wanted to fuck up your friendship. 

“We will just have rules, Y/N.” 

You had sighed as Jeonghan had run his fingers along your jaw, tilting your head up so he could look at your face as he spoke. You hadn’t wanted to agree to the idea of being friends with benefits but the ache between your thighs every time you looked at him had been enough to keep you listening and to make your lips part as he had ran his thumb under your bottom lip. 

“If either one of us wants to stop, we just say it. No deep conversations have to happen. My only rule is that if you are going to fuck someone else, tell me. I don’t want to be second best.” 

Jeonghan had listened to you whining softly under your breath as his fingernails scratched along the side of your head at your hairline. He had known you wanted it as much as he did but what he didn’t know was that it was going to hurt you just as much as it was already hurting him. It seemed like such a simple solution to how he was feeling. He would get to have you in his life even more. He would get to fuck you as much as possible, but then you’d leave every single fucking time and it would start to hurt every single fucking time. 

Turning back towards Jeonghan as you feel his eyes moving along your skin, you fight the urge to move closer to him in your seat. You weren’t alone on the plane and your friends weren’t that far from you, with Mingyu and Dokyeom sitting diagonally across the aisle and Jihoon and Joshua behind you. 

“You could have kept Dokyeom awake to talk.” 

Smirking, Jeonghan purses his lips as he moves to lean across you, pulling down the shade on the window, leaving you and him both veiled in the low light of the cabin. You sigh as you feel his fingers slide along your forearm to your wrist, his fingernails causing chillbumps to spread along your skin as he draws small circles on your skin. 

“I don’t want to talk to Dokyeom, I want to talk to you.” 

Sighing softly, you glance down at your hand as Jeonghan runs his fingers along yours before linking his hand with yours. You knew the light was dim enough that no one would see and that if anyone did, they probably wouldn’t ask too many questions because Jeonghan was just a touchy guy to begin with. What you didn’t know was why your heart was in your throat. You didn’t know why your friend with benefits even wanted to hold your hand in the first place. 

“Listen…I’m just saying we already came up with the rooming arrangements before we even got on the fucking plane. Why are you two being such bitches about it now?” 

You sigh, leaning against Mingyu’s arm, as Joshua stares at Seungkwan and Chan in the hotel lobby. You already knew who you were rooming with and he was doing a great job holding you up at the moment. It was just the youngest of your group who were being cry babies about their rooms. 

“We are here for a week, Shua! If you had to spend every single night in a room with Lee Chan, you’d bitch a little bit about it too.” 

Groaning, Jihoon rolls his suitcase towards the group, causing Soonyoung to whine as his roommate swipes the card from Seungkwan’s hand before offering his to Chan. 

“Why do I have to lose my best friend over this?” 

Jeonghan laughs at Soonyoung’s dramatics as Chan pouts, knowing Soonyoung was going to be upset at him for the rest of the day because of the rooming arrangement. You watch the eldest of the group pat Joshua on the back as he gestures for Dokyeom to head for the elevator. 

“Come on, Y/N. You look like you could use a nap.” 

Hearing your name, you blink up at Mingyu before offering him a tired smile. There had been little sleep on the plane. You had never been good at sleeping on transportation but between that and Yoon Jeonghan at your side, it had been a battle you were destined to lose. 

Holding the door back, Jeonghan purses his lips, waiting for you and Mingyu to get in before he presses the button, causing Joshua and Jun to throw up their hands when the door starts to close in their faces. 

“Oops! It’s full!” 

You knew Jeonghan was being a menace. The lack of sleep was adding another level to his usual antics. Leaning against the elevator wall, Jeonghan watches as you sigh, your head leaned forward as Mingyu stands beside you, his and your luggage in hand as the elevator climbs. He had wondered on the plane if there was a way to switch rooms but that would be too obvious and Mingyu had already looked like a kicked puppy when he had made him give up his seat. 

With a final ding, the elevator doors open to a long hallway. Glancing at the wall, Mingyu mutters under his breath before taking a left before looking back at you with a laugh that comes to a stop to let you catch up to him. 

“Come on, Squirt. We are in 546.” 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, following behind you and Mingyu, not even noticing the look that Dokyeom is giving him. While Mingyu didn’t seem to realize the relationship that was right in front of him, Dokyeom wasn’t as oblivious. He knew there had been something different for months, even if Jeonghan wouldn’t tell him what it was. 

“Don’t plot his murder yet, he’s not flirting. She’s like his sister.” 

Dokyeom’s voice is barely over a whisper but Jeonghan still looks at him as if he is announcing his words to the world. It was that sort of wide eyed, deer caught in the headlights look that told Dokyeom that he was right. 

“I–shut up. I know that. He’s just dumb. I’m not doing anything.” 

Chuckling under his breath, Dokyeom nods along with Jeonghan’s rambling as the two watch you and Mingyu open your hotel door before you offer them both a quick smile and wave, disappearing into the room and leaving them in the hallway. 

“Sure, man. Whatever you say, you have the key.” 

Waking up to a dimly lit room, you wince at the pain behind your eyes as you try to look around at the other bed, seeing it still made and empty. There was no sign of Mingyu in the room besides his now empty suitcase at the end of his bed and a few of his things strewn about on a couch in the corner of the room. 

You hadn’t meant to nap for as long as you clearly had but the flight had been long and now you were feeling bad about how much you must be missing from the trip. It wasn’t like there was a planned itinerary for every single day, but you did have some plans as a group and with different people. Otherwise, you were free to travel the city or use your time as you saw fit. Apparently, for the first few hours spent in Paris, you saw fit to snore into a very comfortable pillow. 

Reaching for your phone, you whine at the headache plaguing you as you look through your texts, seeing a few that you had missed along with a couple phone calls. 

[Missed call: Cheol at 11:30 a.m.]

[Missed call: Cheol at 2:16 p.m.] 

Cheol: I talked to Gyu. He said you passed the fuck out. Call me later. Wish I was there. 😭

Mingyu: Going out with Shua and Jun~~ be back later. Love you 😙

Jeonghan: Are you awake yet? Let’s order room service.

Sighing, you tap Jeonghan’s message first, hovering over the keyboard before finally replying. 

Y/N: I just woke up. Mingyu is out. 

Jeonghan had been awake for about an hour longer than you so when you finally text him back, he glances down at his cellphone resting on his stomach with a soft smile. At least he had been smiling until you mentioned Mingyu. 

Jeonghan: I know where he is. I wasn’t asking to order room service with him. 

Y/N: Fine…

While you didn’t sound entirely convincing, Jeonghan wasn’t going to turn down the chance to spend some time alone with you. He knew where Mingyu was along with Dokyeom and he knew they would be gone, at least for a few more hours. 

Sliding off the bed, you move into the bathroom to grab some pain reliever, making it back to the mini fridge by the time you hear the knock at the door. Leaning to pull the door open, you meet Jeonghan’s eyes before his gaze slowly moves over your frame and back up to your face as he slips into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were ever gonna wake up. I almost asked Mingyu to let me in before he left.” 

Scoffing, you swallow your medicine with a gulp of water as you feel Jeonghan’s fingers sliding along your hip. You knew he was kidding, at least mostly. As far as you knew, he didn’t want anyone to know he was fucking you and you didn’t want to fuck up your friendship with him, no matter how much it hurt to be a dirty little secret. 

“So he could ask you why?” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan lets you pull away from him as you move back to your bed, flopping down on it with a groan. He had noticed the medicine in your hand and he could see the way your brows were furrowed. He had known you long enough to know the signs of your headaches and when you weren’t feeling well. Sitting down next to you, Jeonghan runs his hand along your leg to the end of your shorts as you look at your phone, responding to the rest of your text messages. 

“He could have asked why. I don’t care. You want me to just pick something for us to eat?” 

Wrinkling your nose, lost in thought, you glance at Jeonghan as his fingers push under the leg of your shorts, a concerned look on his face. He was full of shit 90% of the time but there were times when the two of you were alone that he made your heart tighten in your chest. 

“Mm, yeah. Just gonna call Cheol back and wait for this medicine to kick in.”

Nodding, Jeonghan watches you for a moment longer before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, causing you to close your eyes and return it as your fingers barely hold on to your cell phone. There was no reason for him to kiss you. 

When the two of you came up with the rules of your relationship, there were no strings attached. It had started out with no kisses goodbye, but that rule had quickly been broken. Then the no sleeping over rule had been broken more than once by both of you, and now Jeonghan was sending your brain into a frenzy with such a sweet gesture as he smiled against your lips before sitting back to take out his own phone, pulling up the room service menu. 

Swallowing hard, you furrow your brows, lifting your fingers to press them against your lips as you make yourself pull your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you and back to your phone, pressing down on Seungcheol’s name. You knew it was late in Korea but not so late that he wouldn’t still be awake. 

“Hey…didn’t think I’d hear from you today.” 

Seungcheol’s voice makes you pout. You could hear the sadness in his tone as he leaned back in his gaming chair. You had offered to stay back and hang out with him but between his insistence that you go and Jeonghan’s whining, you had paid for your ticket, leaving an injured Seungcheol under the care of your other friends who couldn’t make the trip. 

“Sorry, I was so tired from the flight. How are you feeling today?” 

Scoffing, Seungcheol looks down at the brace on his knee before leaning his head back in annoyance, not really at your question but at the situation. 

“Fine. Minghao went with me to rehab and then Vernon and Wonwoo hung out and played some games earlier.” Pursing his lips, Seungcheol glances out his window at the lights of the city, listening to the sounds of the traffic compared to the quiet sounds of your conversation. “How’s Paris?” 

Jeonghan closes one eye in thought before turning his phone towards you to ask if his order was okay, only getting a nod before you sigh and give your attention back to the phone call. You had been disappointed when any of the group had been unable to come along but especially Seungcheol. He and Mingyu were like family more than they were friends and now part of your family had a torn ACL and was stuck in his apartment playing video games and eating takeout while you were visiting a foreign country. 

“I’m glad they are taking care of you. We miss you. I haven’t seen much other than the back of my eyelids, Cheollie.” 

You say we before you even think about what you are saying, causing Jeonghan and unknown to you, Seugncheol to furrow their brows. It wasn’t like you had lied; Jeonghan had wanted his best friend to come on the trip but it wasn’t like he knew that he was in the room.  

“We…” Smirking to himself, Seungcheol shifts in his chair, reaching out to move his mouse across his screen to open his game back up, knowing he was going to end the phone call sooner than he had even anticipated. “Tell Han I said hi. Call me tomorrow. Love you.” 

Groaning, you avoid Jeonghan’s eyes as he searches your face, seeing a look of embarrassment wash over your expression. Your relationship with Jeonghan was a secret from most of the group but it had been Seungcheol’s apartment that you had been making out with Jeonghan in and he wasn’t an idiot. 

“Shut up…  I–Cheol says hi.” Sighing, you watch Jeonghan lean his head back, realizing what had happened as you finished up your phone call. “Love you too; talk to you tomorrow.” 

Lowering your phone, you meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he stares at you, tilting his head. You could see the question on his face but you weren’t sure you were up to answering it. Instead, you toss your phone down on the bed and groan as he watches your dramatics, putting his hand back on your thigh unable to stop the smile that pulls at his lips. 

“We miss you, Cheollie.” You could hear the teasing in Jeonghan’s voice even as you lifted your arm to rest it over your face. “Why did he assume it was me?” 

Groaning his name, you turn on your back, causing Jeonghan’s hand to slide to your inner thigh, where he lets it rest. You squirm slightly, feeling his thumb rub small circles along your skin as he watches you closely much to your dismay. 

“Probably because Mingyu is out and he has already talked to him.” 

You fail to tell Jeonghan the part about how Seungcheol also knows that you are fucking Jeonghan but he is nice enough to only tease you sometimes about how much it’s going to break your heart one day. Sliding your arm from your face, you sigh as Jeonghan’s fingers start to work into the tight muscle of your thigh. It felt good; it was a nice gesture but you knew there was an ulterior motive to it. 

“We can’t do anything while we are here, Jeonghan. We have no idea when Mingyu will be back, and I don’t –” 

An annoyed groan slipping from between Jeonghan’s lips makes you fall silent as he slides up in bed and between your legs to hover over you on the bed. Your heart was beginning to race from the image of him above you to the thrill of the situation. You really didn’t know when Mingyu was coming back from his outing and the food could be delivered at any moment. 

“We are in Paris and you are going to lay on this bed and tell me that we aren’t going to fuck while we are here?” 

Slotting his leg between your thighs, Jeonghan smirks when he hears a whine get caught in your throat. There were many things he loved but one of them was feeling the warmth of your pussy, clothed or not, against his thigh. He loved when you would instinctively start to buck your hips against his leg just from the desire to feel any sort of release because you had to chase it. 

“Y/N…baby…princess…my beautiful angel…” 

All the pet names that fall from Jeonghan’s silver tongue cause your fingers to dig into the comforter as you try to fight the urge to roll your hips against his thigh. You can’t help but lift your right hand, grabbing for something more substantial, and find Jeonghan’s shirt when you feel his lips press against your neck as he kisses up to your ear. With each kiss, Jeonghan speaks and allows his warm breath to tempt you even further. 

“I might actually die if I can’t have you this entire time.” You knew he was being dramatic but you could also feel how hard Jeonghan was getting against your thigh so he was doing a good job of convincing you that he was telling you the truth. “We can be so careful. I’ll make it worth it.” 

You knew he would keep that promise. Every time with Jeonghan was worth it. No matter how much you tried to lie to yourself, even the cracks that were starting to line your heart and the stress building in your mind were worth it. 

Jeonghan whines your name against your jaw as his hand pulls your hips up and tighter against his thigh. He could feel the way you were starting to roll your hips and it made him want to lay on the bed under you and watch you ride his cock like that until he filled you full of his cum. He wanted nothing more than to keep you like this forever, to make this simple like it was in his head but his heart was making it complicated. His heart had made it complicated from day one. 

“Bonjour, service en chambre.” 

The voice of someone on the other side of the door and a stern knock pull you and Jeonghan from your lust filled haze quickly. With an annoyed groan, Jeonghan rests his head against your shoulder before nodding against it as the man announces himself again, trying to get any response from the room. 

“Oui, une minute, s'il vous plaît.” 

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan takes a deep breath before sliding off the bed to adjust his sweatpants. You could hear the frustration in Jeonghan’s sighs as he ran his fingers through his dark hair, moving towards the door and letting you sit up on the bed. In reality, there was nothing for either of you to be upset about. He had placed the order so it wasn’t surprising that it was being delivered in a timely manner. 

“Merci…”

The word falls from Jeonghan’s lips like venom as he takes the bags from the man before slamming the door in his face. Turning back to face you, Jeonghan gives you an incredulous look, finding you pressing your lips together and trying not to laugh at him. He didn’t find anything about the situation funny. 

“I got cock blocked and you are laughing?” 

Smiling, you reach your hand out to help Jeonghan with one of the bags, taking out the drinks and sitting them on the nightstand out of any danger of spilling, as he grumbles under his breath. You can’t help but laugh again, opening both straws and finding him pouting at you. 

“You didn’t even offer him a tip. Are you that pissed off?” 

Opening one of the containers with more force than necessary, Jeonghan grabs one of the forks, stabbing at a piece of pasta and lifting it to his lips, still pouting. 

“Is your cock still hard and not wet, Y/N? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a cock that gets painfully hard every time you look at your incredibly hot gi—friend.” 

Coughing as he takes a bite of food, Jeonghan looks down as he almost slips up on his wording, hoping you won’t notice. You just furrow your brows, your straw pursed on your lips, as you watch him for a moment before taking a sip and tilting the drink towards him, offering it to him to do the same. 

You weren’t sure what you had heard. You knew what you wanted to hear but at the same time, did you? What would that mean? So instead of lingering on it, you focus on the rest of his nonsense, letting Jeonghan off the hook for his slip up. 

“No, I don’t have a cock but I do get horny. You act like girls don’t get just as horny as guys. It’s not my fault that I can just hide it better.” 

Scoffing, Jeonghan leans towards you, taking a sip of your drink before turning his fork towards you to offer you a bite of the pasta, feeling the warmth that had risen in his neck and face starting to fade. Maybe he had just gotten lucky and you hadn’t caught the word he had almost used to refer to you or maybe you were just being nice. Either way, he wasn’t going to push the subject if you weren’t. 

Watching you take the bite from the fork, Jeonghan lets his eyes move over your face, lingering on your eyes. You were so beautiful, it was painful, and he was being honest when he said he didn’t want to waste the time the two of you had in Paris. It would be a waste to fly so far and not indulge in you as much as he could. 

You furrow your brows as Jeonghan’s eyes fall to the bed, the two of you eating mostly in silence until finally you are the first one to break the tension as you groan, rubbing your hand over your stomach with a grin on your face. Jeonghan can’t help but smile once again, feeling endeared by you as he takes another sip of drink before putting it back on the nightstand. 

“Full?” 

Nodding, you stretch on as Jeonghan works to close containers and cleans up, moving around your room. You watch as he glances back at you, his eyes moving along the length of your body, to the arch of your back when you whine into a yawn. Smiling, you reach for your phone, checking your messages, and at the same time feeling him lay on the bed next to you, slender fingers barely graving over your stomach, before Jeonghan slides his hand under your shirt to have contact with your skin. 

“I’m not.” 

Your laugh makes Jeonghan smile. The smile is genuine and full—not one of his half smiles that he would give to just anyone. No, this smile is one that is meant just for you. Reaching up to take your phone out of your hand, Jeonghan whispers your name and you can hear the need and desire laced in his voice like a question. With your brows furrowed, you can only meet his eyes and nod before his lips are back on yours. 

Whimpered moans slip into Jeonghan’s mouth as his fingers slide under the top of your shorts and between your legs. It was one thing to feel you against his thigh and it was another to feel your wet pussy on his fingers. 

Jeonghan groans into the kiss. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips, feeling you lift your hips towards his hand as his fingers spread your folds. Between breathy kisses, the sticky, wet sounds of Jeonghan’s fingers teasing you are all you can hear, even as you mutter, begging him for more. 

“More? Like what? What do you want, beautiful?” 

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you practically sob out a moan of frustration at Jeonghan’s question. You knew how much he liked you to tell him exactly what you wanted and he knew how much you just wanted him to give him everything. Pushing your head back against the pillow, you bite at your bottom lip only to have Jeonghan’s teeth pull it from yours with a dark laugh. 

“What do you want, Y/N? My fingers or my mouth?” 

Tears run from your eyes along your temples as Jeonghan’s lips press against yours teasingly. He was driving you crazy with his light touches to your clit, and it was making it hard to think and even harder to speak. Arching your back, you gasp Jeonghan’s name as his thumb and forefinger close around your clit, rolling the small bud between his fingers, waiting for you to speak. 

“Ah–fuck! Both…please? Please, just give me both. I can’t stand it.” 

It had been longer than Jeonghan would have liked since he had been in your bed and normally he would be more strict. Normally he would make you pick one thing and draw out your orgasm until you were begging him through tears for more, but just feeling your slick arousal on his fingers made Jeonghan weak for you. 

Moving to his knees, Jeonghan pushes his fingers into the top of your shorts and underwear. You only manage a soft whimper of his name as he slides them down your legs and tosses them onto the floor before letting his eyes roam over you. Licking his lips, Jeonghan slides his hands under your knees, pulling your hips down in bed as he lays on his stomach so that your pussy is level with his face. 

“Fuck…Jeonghan, please? Stop teasin—” 

Running his tongue from your entrance to the top of your mound, Jeonghan silences you as he groans to your taste. It really had been too long since he had been between your legs and he was starving. The food had been nothing in comparison to this and he was feeling almost feral after a single drop of you on his tongue. 

Long, slender fingers part your folds as Jeonghan moves his other hand from under your leg to circle your dripping hole with his middle finger as you moan his name. He could play you like a well tuned instrument and he knew every note by heart. 

Turning his hand palm up, Jeonghan groans under his breath, feeling your warm, soft walls welcome in his finger and tighten around them. He could just imagine how good you would feel on his cock and it had him leaking profusely in his sweatpants as he willed himself not to rut against the bed, lowering his head to flick his tongue at your throbbing clit. 

There have been few people in your life who made you feel as good in bed as Yoon Jeonghan and there were none who looked as good as him between your thighs. No one’s hair felt as good between your fingers as you held them against you; their lips wrapped around your clit as their fingers steadily pushed you towards heaven. No, that was only Yoon Jeonghan. 

You tasted better than anything that Jeonghan could imagine. He had wanted this from the moment that he had walked into the room and now that he was lucky enough to be between your legs, he could feel his head going fuzzy with just thoughts of you. You were like a drug that he could never get enough of. 

It was the feeling of your velvet walls clenching around his fingers as he pushed you over the edge and the sounds of your sweet little moans that caused Jeonghan to almost lose it. Words almost escape between his lips—three little words that could ruin everything. Closing his eyes tightly, Jeonghan buries his face against you to silence himself, enjoying the taste of your cum on his tongue until the sound of your phone causes him to furrow his brows. 

Your fingers tear at the bedding under you as Jeonghan tries his best to pull another orgasm from you until the familiar sound of your ringtone starts to play from beside you on the bed. Gasping for a full breath, you glance over to see Chan’s face as Jeonghan looks up at you from between your legs with a disappointed look on his face. 

“Let it go to voicemail.” 

That was one option but if Chan was calling you, there had to be a reason. Whining, you slide your hand across the bed, listening to Jeonghan groan in annoyance, laying his face against your thigh as you do. Licking your lips, you catch your breath before putting your phone on your chest and answering the phone while speaking, hoping it will mask some of your labored breathing. 

“Chan? What’s up?” 

Closing his eyes tightly, Jeonghan shakes his head as you answer the phone, knowing he isn't getting laid now. First, the hotel staff had bad timing and now Lee Chan was cock blocking him. Glancing back up at you and the phone, Jeonghan shifts to his elbow, leaning to wipe his lips as Chan finally speaks up, his voice instantly breaking your heart. 

“Y/N…I forgot my key. Soonyoung is in the room and won’t answer the phone. He’s still mad about earlier and you apparently have to have the key to get back into the hotel past a certain time.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan lets out a light scoff, causing you to shoot daggers from your eyes in his direction. You could hear that Chan was drunk and you had always had a soft spot for the younger boys in your group of friends. You had taken on the big sister role very quickly and took it seriously. Throwing his hands up, Jeonghan mouths “what?” in your direction at the look of disappointment on your face at his reaction before you simply roll your eyes and slide off the bed to pick up your shorts, sliding them back up your legs as you speak to Chan. 

“I’ll come down and let you in and then we will go talk to Soonyoung. Give me like five minutes.” 

Tossing your phone back on to the bed, you move past Jeonghan as he whines your name, trying to grab your hand, only to find your fingers slipping from his. He knew he was being selfish but fuck, he felt like he deserved it just a little bit. Every once in a while, people could be a little selfish and enjoy the company of their— Even in his head, he couldn’t think of the right word to call you, so Jeonghan watched you from the bathroom door instead as you freshened up. 

“Can we try again later?” 

Sighing, you glance at Jeonghan through the mirror as he leans his head against the door frame, a look of disappointment on his face that almost shatters your resolve. You wanted to be less “easy” and say maybe or maybe not but instead you just nod and try to walk past him, feeling Jeonghan’s hand slide around your waist. Soft lips press against yours and you feel your knees start to give at the feeling and at how much you want to pull Jeonghan back into your bed. 

“I’ll text you in a bit.” 

Six words and Jeonghan leaves you standing in your room, feeling confused and lost. Only the sound of a text and a selfie of a pouty Chan sitting on the steps, asking for a rescue, pulls you back to reality. 

Your fingers move along the rows of silk and satin on the rack as you purse your lips. It wasn’t that the dresses weren’t gorgeous. All of them were and all of them cost half of your rent. Mingyu lifts his gaze towards you as he pulls a shirt from a rack, putting it up to his body, before turning towards the mirror to judge his choice. 

“You can’t tell what they look like unless you actually look at them.” 

Mingyu was your favorite shopping partner. You found out years ago that he loved to shop even more than you did. He had a great eye for what would look good on you and you were grateful for that because you seemed to lack that ability. 

“They are so expensive, Gyu.” 

Nodding, Mingyu glances at the tag of the shirt held against his chest before sighing and draping it over his arm. You glance up at the man as he moves beside you, being a lot more thorough with the dresses than you had been. 

“It’s my treat. We need to find you something pretty to wear for tonight. You are going out with Jeonghan, right?” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you stumble over your feet, trying to take a step away from your best friend. Lifting his brow, Mingyu just smirked, taking one of the dresses from the rack—a long sleeved, soft mint green dress with a deep V neckline. 

“I–Mingyu…first of all, no. I can’t let you buy it. Secondly, no…  It’s dinner with Jeonghan and Dokyeom.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu moves closer, holding the dress up to you and reaching out with one hand to hold the long sleeve to your arm. Pursing his lips, Mingyu glances over his shoulder at the shop attendant, furrowing his brows, trying to remember anything he had practiced in French. 

“Um… Excusez-moi. Salle des vêtements ?” 

Smiling, you furrow your brows at Mingyu’s attempt to ask for a fitting room as the girl just smiles at him and lifts her brows, speaking in English as she gestures towards the back of the store. 

“There are fitting rooms this way.” 

Laying the dress over his arm along with his shirt, Mingyu shrugs before looking back at you as you laugh under your breath. 

“What? What did I say?” 

“You asked for the clothes room. I mean, not too far off.” 

Sighing, Mingyu walks beside you before offering the pretty store attendant a dazzling smile before she leaves the two of you alone to try on your outfits. 

“Well, it’s not like that’s the first time I’ve looked like an idiot in front of a woman. I don’t know how to say "fitting” in French.” Offering you the dress, Mingyu lifts his brows as you start to whine, looking at the price tag. “Try it on, Y/N.” 

You slide your fingers over the silk, taking the dress from Mingyu, before going behind the curtain. The dress was beautiful. It was not what you would have picked for yourself just because you weren’t sure it was something you could pull off. The V of the neck was deep and would show off your collarbones. It would take at least ten minutes to button all of the buttons that led from your waist to your chest but by the time you were finished, you were even speechless as you stared at the mirror. 

Adjusting the white button up over his chest, Mingyu turns to the side and nods at his appearance in the mirror before looking at the curtain you had disappeared behind. He knew you were going to look good but he also knew that your self esteem was going to get the better of you without a little push. 

“Y/N…come on, get your ass out—oh…” 

Words fall silent on Mingyu’s lips when you open the curtain, your leg peeking from the large slit that rests at the top of your thigh as you move into the center of the fitting room area towards the larger mirror where he stood. You were his best friend and more like a sister but he was also a guy at the end of the day and he had eyes. You were stunning. 

“Is it awful? I told you that nothing in this place would look right on me.” 

Shaking his head, Mingyu steps behind you, taking your shoulders to put you in front of the large mirror where lights would shine down on you, allowing you to see better how well the dress truly fits you. It hugged in all the right places and flowed in others. 

“You are fucking beautiful. Yoon Jeonghan is going to lose his damn mind.” 

Jeonghan couldn’t stop staring at you. He knew that the restaurant that the three of you had chosen to go to was nice but when he had met you in the lobby of the hotel with Dokyeom and you had been in that dress... Jeonghan had almost lost his mind. 

You smile as Dokyeom walks beside you, his cheerful voice causing your face to light up like a star in the sky, while Jeonghan struggles to think straight. How could anyone be around you without wanting you? Jeonghan wasn’t sure how Dokyeom could act normal around you when you looked like you had stepped out of Jeonghan’s dreams. 

Jeonghan was in love. He had known it for a while now but looking at you now, in that dress, under the Parisian street lamps... He couldn’t tell himself it was just lust anymore. 

Glancing up at the sign for the restaurant, you can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on you. They hadn’t left you for the entire walk from the hotel to the restaurant. You felt like you were going to float away under his gaze but the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground was Dokyeom. 

“The reservations are under your name, Y/N.” 

Jeonghan’s voice brings your attention to him fully and you feel your cheeks heat up as if you were standing in front of an open flame. He looked incredible. You were all dressed up. The restaurant wasn’t incredibly fancy but it was considered fine dining so you all wanted to look the part. Jeonghan had chosen dark jeans, a dark button up with a jacket, and brown boots. Everything fits him perfectly and makes your mouth feel dry. 

“Right…I’ll check in. Be right back.” 

Two sets of eyes watch you but one lingers longer before Jeonghan finally pulls his eyes from the door to focus on Dokyeom with a long sigh. 

“Y/N looks fantastic tonight, don’t you think?” 

That was one way to put it. Jeonghan just scoffs into a laugh, lifting his hand to run it over his lips before nodding and narrowing his eyes, thinking about how to answer that question and what he even wanted to say. He knew what he wanted but he knew it would upset you if you found out. Fuck it. 

“She looks beautiful.” Moving in closer to Dokyeom, Jeonghan watches the man lean his head back a bit, almost out of concern. His eyes widen as if the shorter man was going to hit him before Jeonghan smooths Dokyeom’s jacket and smiles. “If you make up a reason to leave now, I'll give you 50 bucks or literally anything you want.” 

Laughing, Dokyeom tilts his head, thinking it has to be a joke, until he meets Jeonghan’s eyes and sees the serious look of desperation in them. He knew that his friend liked you but maybe it was reaching that point where he was willing to admit it to himself and you.

Swallowing hard, Dokyeom glances towards the door to see you smiling at the hostess, your eyes glancing towards him as you give him an apologetic look and say something else to the woman. There was no way he wasn’t going to get a guilt trip from you for leaving but if he didn't, Jeonghan might actually hit him. 

“I–fuck man. Y/N is gonna be pissed at me. She’s the one who wanted us to all get dinner together, but...” 

One more look into Jeonghan’s eyes and Dokyeom felt his excuse crumble. He could see how important this was to Jeonghan and now it felt important to him too. 

“Yeah…alright. I’ll come up–” 

“Okay! So she said, like ten more minutes.” 

Stepping back from Jeonghan, Dokyeom clears his throat before smiling just a bit too big at you. You knew something was different but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Jeonghan was pretty good at lying to you or at least at pulling something over on you but Dokyeom wasn’t. 

“I am so sorry but I have to get back to the hotel. Rain check on dinner.” 

Watching your face fall, Dokyeom feels his stomach tighten as you take a step towards him and he takes a step back, knowing that if you press him too much for answers, he will crumble. 

“What? You were so excited. Why?” 

Lifting his hands, Dokyeom gestures back towards the hotel and it’s as if you can see the gears moving in his head as he thinks of an excuse on his feet. 

“Uh…Min–Mingyu. Yep, Mingyu texted me. He wants my help with something. So I gotta go, right now. Like right now. Bye!” 

Starting to speak, you end up closing your mouth as Dokyeom lets out a squeal, quickly moving away from you into the flow of people heading away from the restaurant. Narrowing your eyes, you look back to Jeonghan, who rubs his lips together before smiling sweetly at you and lifting his hand, offering it to you. 

“Looks like it’s just us, baby.” 

Pushing your tongue into your cheek, you roll your eyes at Jeonghan before turning from his hand, realizing he must have had something to do with Dokyeom’s quick departure. You sigh as you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, Jeonghan’s chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles next to your ear before pouting. 

“What? Are you mad at me? I didn’t leave.” 

Leaning your head away from his lips, you hear Jeonghan let out a long sigh as you all but reject him again. Fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you back against him, and Jeonghan’s brows furrow deeply. 

“Y/N…seriously?” A quick glance from you has Jeonghan leaning his head back with a groan before he nods, giving in. “Yes, I asked him to leave. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Your features soften at Jeonghan’s confession. You had figured that he had asked Dokyeom to leave but you hadn’t really expected him to tell you. You had expected to argue with him to the point that he would lie about it and then tell you the truth around the time for dessert. What was different about tonight? 

“I–what? Yes…I didn’t want you to lie to me.” 

Jeonghan’s hands slide from your waist as he begrudgingly lets you stand on your own, as if coming to the realization that you don’t want to be held or to hold his hand. You watch as his eyes widen, a small smile pulling at his lips when you slide your hand along his. 

“Mademoiselle?” 

Glancing up at the woman you had spoken to earlier, you let out a soft breath, giving her a smile and a nod before leading Jeonghan along with you. He listens as you explain that your party has become two and she drops off a menu at the front before leading you and Jeonghan to a table near a window. 

Watching you from across the table, Jeonghan takes a deep breath as you look down at your menu, his eyes moving as he tilts his head to see your legs crossed just off to the side of the table. He knew that he should be more civilized, perhaps more respectful but the way the dress was hugging your thighs and the way the slit of the dress was sitting so high on your leg was making his mouth water. 

Licking your lips, you start to ask Jeonghan what he is thinking about ordering when you lift your eyes to find his eyes moving along your legs and up your body. The heat rises once again in your neck and up your face at the amount of attention he was giving you. You had known he had been looking at you but you hadn’t expected him to do it so obviously now. 

Meeting your eyes and finding you watching him, Jeonghan grins, having been caught by you. He knew he should be embarrassed but instead, he just lets out a breath and shakes his head. 

“You are so fucking pretty. I’m sorry…  I can’t stop staring at you. That was why I asked Dokyeom to bail on dinner. I wanted you all to myself. I’m selfish.” 

Shifting in your seat, you reach for the water in front of you, taking a sip at Jeonghan’s words. You hadn’t expected him to speak so candidly about his reasoning for why Dokyeom had left or why he was looking at you the way he was. You watch his smile soften and his gaze drop to his menu, allowing you a moment of clarity to take your own breath as you get a break from his attention. 

“You are selfish.” Your voice is quiet and meek but Jeonghan smiles, letting out an amused breath before looking up at you once again as you continue. “You could have just asked me to dinner on your own.” 

Jeonghan swallows hard at your words, his confident facade breaking slightly as he looks down at his menu. Clearing his throat, Jeonghan tries to think of the right words before he finally manages to meet your eyes again. 

“Is it shitty of me that I’m afraid you’ll turn me down? So this way, we were all going out. You had more of a reason to be here.” 

Your heart shouldn’t be aching the way it was hearing another confession from Jeonghan but it was breaking your heart. You didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t sure what he even wanted you to say. The rules had been clear. You were just friends. Has that changed? 

“Jeonghan…” 

The whine in your voice sounds similar to a rejection and Jeonghan can’t stand the idea of that so he just smiles and holds up his hands, happy to see the waiter standing beside you. He didn’t want to hear how he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t Kim Mingyu or Choi Seungcheol. He already knew, but that didn’t make him want you any less. Maybe he could still prove it to you. 

Jeonghan was thankful for the wine running through yours and his system as you laughed, leaning against his body. He knew you weren’t so drunk that you weren’t thinking clearly but you were feeling free enough that any of the earlier tension seemed to have melted away. 

“It was so good. Those coffee truffles… Jeonghan, oh my god. Babe, will you go back and get me more?” 

Hearing you call him babe was like injecting his veins with serotonin. Jeonghan nods before leaning to press a kiss to your jaw as you laugh sweetly. He would give you the world if you asked for it and laughed so beautifully for him like that. 

“Mm, I don’t wanna go to bed.” 

You pout into your words, looking up at the hotel, as you dig into your purse for your key and Jeonghan holds on to your waist with a grin. You were adorable all of the time but when you were even a little tipsy, you dialed up the cute factor by a hundred, making him melt at the sight of you. Sliding the key from your fingers, Jeonghan listens to your laughter as he taps it against the reader and pulls open the door as you thank him.   

“Then we won’t go to our rooms yet. I know a place. I found it earlier.” 

Jeonghan piqued your curiosity, causing you to tilt your head with a small, curious sound. Laughing, the man lets you lean on him as he walks to the elevator, still using your key to open it, before pressing the button for the top floor. 

“Where are we going?” 

You lean between Jeonghan’s legs as he rests against the elevator wall, the quiet beeps of each floor being passed acting as background music. Smiling, Jeonghan slides his hands along the soft silk of your dress to rest them on your hips, leaning his head back against the wall with a small chuckle at your question. 

“Up.” 

One final ding and the doors open to a long, quiet hallway. You lean back on your heels to look, making Jeonghan hold your wrists to keep you steady. The coast looked pretty clear; only a housekeeping cart and a few room service trays left outside the doors let you know to keep your voices down. 

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jeonghan smiles behind his finger as you lower your head to suppress a laugh sticking by his side. The two of you sneak down the hallway, only stopping at the housekeeping cart long enough for Jeonghan to grab a blanket slipping it under his arm. 

“Where are we going?” 

The question once again slips from your lips as you glance back to make sure no one was following you and Jeonghan as he turns to the left to what seems like a dead end, a door leading to an emergency exit to the roof. Raising his brows, Jeonghan pushes the door with his shoulder and you wince, ready to hear an alarm but when nothing happens except the door opening, your eyes soften and your mouth falls open in surprise. 

“Shhh, our little secret.” 

Keeping your hand tightly in his, Jeonghan climbs the steps before pushing open a second door, causing you to gasp at the sight. From the roof of the hotel, you can see for miles on a clear night. The lights of the city twinkling and burning like stars and in the distance, even the Eiffel Tower greets you like something out of a movie as you let go of Jeonghan’s hand moving towards the wall lining the entire roof. 

Jeonghan just watches you in awe as the wind lightly moves the dress around your legs as you rest your hands on the wall, looking out into the city. Sure, the city was beautiful but it had nothing on you. He had been to more places than most in the group but none of them compared to this... to you now. 

“Oh my god... Jeonghan, this is so pretty. I’m so glad you found this.” 

Hands slide around your waist as Jeonghan moves to stand behind you with a smile on his lips. He had wanted to wait a bit longer and just watch you but the urge to touch you was just too great. Leaning back against him, you laugh under your breath, sliding your hands over his, taking in a deep breath of the night air. This was perfect. If you could write out how you wish your life could be lived every day and every night, it would be like this. You would be in Jeonghan’s arms, looking out over a beautiful city. But that was a pipe dream. 

Nudging his nose against your neck, Jeonghan furrows his brows, feeling your shoulders drop. He could sense your mood changing but he wasn’t sure why. All he knew was that he could and wouldn’t let something so perfect go to waste. 

“Can we pretend?” 

Jeonghan’s words, spoken against your neck, are almost so quiet that you have to strain to hear them but you close your eyes and furrow your brows in question. 

“What?” 

Pressing his hands tighter against your stomach, Jeonghan practically whines out his words, causing your heart to tighten and practically shatter. 

“That we are more than this. Just tonight? That’s all I’m asking for. I know I’m not fucking worth it… but just pretend for me? One…fucking night?” 

If he had any idea what he was asking you to do, it didn’t seem to show. You were already suffering with the arrangement that you had and now he wanted more without actually having more. It was almost unbearable and yet all you can do is whimper out a “yes” and a “please, Jeonghan,” like the pathetic woman you are. You say it because you are irrevocably in love with Jeonghan and you can’t admit it openly to yourself, much less to him. 

Turning in his arms, you reach up to cup Jeonghan’s cheek as you feel his fingernails scratch along the silk of your dress at your waist. Dark brown eyes search yours for a short moment until soft lips finally connect with yours, taking your breath away. 

Jeonghan was always a good kisser but there was something about this kiss that felt different. This kiss felt desperate, as if he was trying to make a point or to ingrain it into your memory forever, just in case there wasn’t a second chance. 

You whine out a soft moan, stepping back from the side of the roof as Jeonghan catches your bottom lip between his. He feels your free hand tug at the front of his jacket as if you are trying to keep him in place but just a few more steps back, he finally stops before pulling away to pick up the blanket he had put to the side. 

You watch as Jeonghan lays out the blanket, kneeling down, before offering you his hand to help you do the same. Now it made sense; of course he had a plan. He always did. He was the type of person to think three steps ahead of everyone and usually five steps ahead of you. Carefully moving down to the blanket, you let Jeonghan pull you into his lap, his free hand tracing the line of your thigh and tugging your dress up your legs so as not to cause your dress to rip on the way down. 

“You look so fucking pretty tonight, baby. This dress…fuck… I love it but I—shit, I gotta see you. Wanna see you under the stars. Wanna fuck you under them.” 

It was cliche and yet Jeonghan’s words had your cheeks on fire. The words had your breath quickening as you straddled his lap, feeling his fingers trying to figure out how to impatiently undo the dozens of buttons as he whined in annoyance. 

“Goddammit… There are too many.” 

Shaking your head, you watch as Jeonghan glances up at you, mischief in his eyes as he grabs either side of your dress at the front, trying to tug at it to make the buttons come loose. Reaching up to grab his hands, you whine, making him sigh at you, his tongue running across his lips as you pout at him, trying to make him see reason. 

“I didn’t buy it... It was a gift from Mingyu.” 

Pressing his tongue into his cheek, Jeonghan lifts his brows, learning where your dress came from. He knew deep down that there was nothing between you and Mingyu but that didn’t stop him from seeing red in that moment and it didn’t stop him from making a split second decision. The sound of expensive buttons being flung across the roof makes you gasp as you lean back, looking down at your ruined dress as Jeonghan groans, leaning to kiss over the lace covering your breasts. 

“Jeonghan…What the fuck?” 

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more. Just don’t say his name again, not tonight.”

Muttering against your chest, Jeonghan shakes his head, sliding his fingers along your shoulders to push the dress down your arms before he looks up to meet your eyes. You see no sense of regret or remorse in his eyes, just lust and something else that you aren’t sure if you can name or that you want to. 

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes, feeling Jeonghan’s lips move up the length of your neck towards your jaw. Chillbumps erupt along your skin as his fingers guide your dress down your arms, letting the material pool at your waist when you slip your hands from the sleeves. 

“Then don’t leave me like this alone.” 

You whine out the words so sweetly that Jeonghan smiles on your skin, a small chuckle escaping his lips before he sits back, shrugging off his jacket, letting you help him undo the buttons of his shirt. Your nails lightly scratch his chest as your eyes take in his handsome face. You had looked at him hundreds of times this closely before but this time felt different and on some levels, you knew this time would hurt your heart more in the morning. 

Tossing his shirt to the side, Jeonghan reaches up to cup your cheek, leaning to brush his lips against yours with a soft sigh at the feeling of your kiss. You were giving into a feeling this time and he could tell. Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan uses his free hand to work open the clasp of your bra, feeling it give way as you arch your chest towards him, your hands holding tightly to his biceps as if grounding you to the roof and to him. 

Cold air nips at your breasts when Jeonghan slides the lace from your body before warm breath walks across the same path. You feel his hands holding the arch of your back as your fingers push through his hair, a moan slipping from your lips at the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Please, Jeonghan…” 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan pauses, leaving his lips pressed against the soft skin of your breast, when you breathe out his name, begging for more. In what seems like just a span of a heartbeat, you find yourself on your back on the blanket, Jeonghan hovering over you, his longer dark hair framing his face as his eyes move over your face. 

Lifting your hips, you find yourself shying away from Jeonghan’s attention as he slips the dress down your legs, a shaky breath escaping from between his lips at the sight of you bare in front of him. He knew it had just been a day since he had laid between your legs but every time felt like a privilege, especially this time. 

“Holy shit, baby…” 

Trying to turn your head, Jeonghan’s long, slender fingers stop you. In Jeonghan's opinion, there was no reason for you to look away or for you to be embarrassed by anything. You were perfect. 

Another soft, “please...” reaches Jeonghan’s ears as his thumb brushes under your bottom lip, causing his brows to knit together just slightly. He had heard you beg before; he had even made you beg but he didn’t want to make you beg or want anything this time. Tonight, he wanted to give you anything and everything you wanted. Tonight he wanted to prove something to you, even if it was just pretend. 

Watching Jeonghan nod and move back to his knee, your eyes fall to his hands as he lets out a deep breath, working his belt open with shaky fingers. Sitting up, you listen to how Jeonghan’s breath changes when your hands take the place of his, your fingers steadily undoing his belt and his jeans, before you meet his eyes through lowered lashes. 

Jeonghan can’t help but smile, a laugh escaping from his lips on an exhale in reaction to even the smallest action from you. There was no denying that he was turned on but there was more to it that even he couldn’t explain in a single night. Shaking his head, Jeonghan moves to his feet, his eyes still on yours, as you watch from the blanket as he sheds the last of his clothes before moving back to his knees and back into your touch. 

Leaning his forehead against yours, Jeonghan groans, feeling the warmth of your body against his as he lays between your legs. Sliding your leg along his thigh, you rest your knee at his hip and run your fingers along his arm, enjoying the feeling of the weight of his body even as you ache for him between your thighs. 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan licks his lips when he tries to move, his hand pushing against the blanket and you cling to him, keeping him close to you. Meeting your eyes, he finds a desperate look in your eyes that he knows he isn’t going to be able to resist even before you speak. 

“Just…please? Fuck me, Jeonghan, please.” 

He hadn’t prepped you and he hadn’t touched you since yesterday but he could feel how aroused you were as his cock rested between your legs. Groaning, Jeonghan starts to shake his head in a feeble attempt to argue with you and reason with you but when you lift your hips and rub your pussy against him, every thought in his mind is lost. Instead, Jeonghan whispers your name on your lips as you kiss him and beg him again with your hand cupping his jaw. 

Nodding, Jeonghan reaches between the two of you, lining himself up with you and listening to your breath hitch as he pushes into your tight walls slowly until he bottoms out, his hips resting fully against yours. With one hand resting beside your head, Jeonghan grips your hip with the other hand, resting his forehead against yours as he stays still for a moment to catch his breath as you clench around him. 

The stretch is familiar and yet without the prep, though you had begged him to skip it, you find yourself needing the moment to adjust. Jeonghan wasn’t too big but instead, it was as if his body was made for yours and he filled you perfectly. Once the initial pain of the stretch faded, only the feeling of euphoria and the need for him to move remained. 

Lightly scratching your nails against the side of his neck, you swallow hard to catch your breath before nodding and lifting your hips as if trying to urge him without words. Jeonghan groans into a soft chuckle of your name that sounds like a plea for mercy before you swallow the sound with a kiss as your lips find his. 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan rocks his hips towards yours, filling you once again deeply, causing you to moan into the kiss. Each thrust sends the knot in your stomach to tighten, pushing you towards the edge and your orgasm. The way that Jeonghan seems to know your body and how he finds just the right angle wordlessly, moaning his name as tears gather on the rims of your eyes, makes your head spin. 

“Baby…” 

The pet name whispered against your cheek so softly that the tears that had collected in your eyes fell on a soft sob as you wrapped your arm around Jeonghan’s neck. You pull him closer to you not wanting him to see you cry from something other than pleasure. Closing his eyes tightly as his lips rest against the crook of your neck, Jeonghan hisses out something intelligible that he is afraid you might hear or he might regret as he feels you tightening around him, your orgasm ripping through you. There were three small words that he had tried so hard to keep to himself that could mean nothing or everything. 

With a few more uneven thrusts, Jeonghan follows you over that edge, quickly pulling out of you to cum on to your stomach with a labored, breathy groan, his eyes searching for yours as you avoid him. He could see the tears that had streamed down your face and across your temples into your hair but he wasn’t sure if they were good tears or not. 

Reaching up to wipe his thumb under your eye, Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak but the words are hard to get out. There was so much he wished he could say to you if he weren’t so stupid and scared, so instead he shifted to his other hand and wiped the tears from your other eye before using his shirt to clean your stomach silently. 

After a few moments, silence was deafening, and you felt like you were going to scream if one of you didn’t speak. It had never been this quiet after you and Jeonghan had fucked but then again, it had never felt like that before. Swallowing hard, you look up as Jeonghan finishes buttoning his shirt, your dress mostly covering your body. 

“Jeong—” 

“Y/N…” 

Both of you stop speaking. Having spoken over one another, a smile lifts at both of your lips and Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning down to pick up his jacket before he moves to put it on you. Moving around you, he meets your eyes as he zips up the jacket before leaning to press a kiss to your lips and you feel your heart beat hard and fast like it’s going to burst or break. You aren’t sure which will happen first. 

“Let’s get you to bed. It’s late and I’m sure Mingyu will call the cops if he wakes up and finds you missing from your bed.” 

Nodding, you feel Jeonghan’s fingers slide against your hand before his fingers lace with yours and he leads you back towards the door and back to reality, where the two of you could stop playing pretend. You feel the tears once again prickling at your eyes. Sniffling, you will the tears back, at least until you are safe in bed and away from Jeonghan’s watchful eye. 

Jihoon lifts his brows as you swirl the wine glass in front of you thoughtfully before taking a sip. You glance towards where Soonyoung is talking to a pretty lady showing him another bottle of wine before you once again frown into your glass. It wasn’t like you to be so quiet or to look so down. 

You and Jihoon weren’t as close as some of the others in the group. In truth, you and Soonyoung were closer but over the years, everyone had grown up. Personalities had changed and around a year ago, you had found yourself picking up the phone to text or call Jihoon more often for advice or just to talk. 

“Wanna join us for this wine tour, Y/N? You scheduled it.” 

Looking up from your glass, you meet Jihoon’s eyes with a look of surprise and guilt. You knew you had been more distracted and distant all day but hearing it from Jihoon’s mouth snapped you back to reality. 

“I’m sorry, Jihoon...  just a lot on my mind.” 

Nodding, Jihoon takes a sip of his wine, glancing towards Soonyoung, who seems oblivious to not only the conversation but any of the tension as he accepts a different glass of wine. 

“I can tell. Maybe you need to just tell Jeonghan how you feel about him.” 

With your own glass sitting against your lips, at Jihoon’s words, you choke on your wine, watching the man smile and take another sip as if he had just told you about the weather. The sound of your coughing is finally what draws Soonyoung back to you, concern on his face as he pats your back, leaning to look at you closely. 

“You okay? Don’t drink it so fast.” 

“She’s fine, Soonyoung.” 

Nodding, you try to agree with Jihoon but Soonyoung takes the glass from your hand, leading you towards one of the empty tables, making Jihoon follow with a sigh. 

“I’m okay, I promise.” 

Gesturing his hand out towards you as if to say, I told you so, Jihoon takes the seat across from you as Soonyoung sits beside you, his brows finally relaxing. 

“Okay… you wanna keep going?” 

Jihoon watches you closely as you consider the question, your eyes falling to your phone in your hand. When you take longer than he feels necessary to answer, he purses his lips, leaning forward to rest his chin on his fist and looking towards Soonyoung, meeting his eyes. The two share a quick, silent conversation. 

“I–I mean, yeah, course —”

“I think Jeonghan canceled his plans on Shua today too.” 

Blinking a few times at Soonyoung’s words, you take a breath before leaning forward to rest your head in your hands. The warmth of Soonyoung’s hand running along your back is as soothing as it is humiliating as his words echo in your head. 

“Y/N… It’s not a big deal.” 

Scoffing, you sit up, sniffing back any emotion that has come to the surface, before you look at either of your friends with a shrug. You had been careful. Clearly, Jeonghan had been the one to fuck up but maybe you could still keep this a secret on your part. 

“What? Why would I care what he’s doing today?” 

Smirking, Jihoon lets out a breath that sounds more like a chuckle as he leans back in his chair, causing you to look in his direction. Meeting your eyes, the man lifts his hands in disbelief at your attempt to lie. 

“Really? That’s how you are going to try to play this?” 

The look on Jihoon’s face made you want to smack him but you tried to keep a look of indifference on yours. Sighing, Soonyoung just shakes his head, resting his arm on your chair behind your back, tilting his head towards you. 

“You are dating him, aren’t you? I mean…kinda what it seems like. He’s all over you and if anyone even looks at you for too long, we get a death stare from him. Even Mingyu…” Smiling, Soonyoung lifts his hand from the chair to brush under his nose, amused as he speaks. “Especially Mingyu.” 

Sighing as you lift, you reach for your wine, taking a sip of it and lifting your shoulders in mild defeat. Soonyoung wasn’t telling you anything you didn’t know. After last night and the state of your dress lying in your suitcase, hiding from Mingyu, you knew that Jeonghan had the wrong impression of your relationship with him—or he just didn’t want to understand it. 

“It’s not my fault he can’t control his face. At least this isn’t my fault.” 

Sharing another look with Soonyoung, Jihoon smiles at you before finally laughing as he looks down at his fingers around the stem of his wine glass. 

“Uh, Y/N, you both fucked up if your goal was to keep your...” Furrowing his brows, Jihoon meets your eyes, looking for a bit of clarification, getting none before he continues. “Relationship, a secret.” 

Now it was you who needed the clarification. You couldn’t think of a single time that you had been careless enough to make your relationship with Jeonghan as obvious as Jihoon was making it seem. Lifting your brows, you whine Jihoon’s name, making the man lower his head and nod before he continues with his explanation. 

“About a month ago, you called me around like, fuck, two in the morning. You were wasted and I’m pretty sure you were hanging out at Cheol’s.” Sighing, Jihoon looks at Soonyoung as if looking for moral support as he continues. “You said something about wanting me to keep a secret about Jeonghan. No matter what I said, I couldn’t stop you, so you told me you were sleeping with him.” 

There wasn’t enough wine or water in all of Paris to help the way that your mouth went dry at Jihoon’s words. You knew that you got drunk with Seungcheol on occasion and you also knew that there were a few times you couldn't remember the night before. You also knew there were nights you would see phone calls or texts to friends, mostly Jeonghan, that you couldn’t remember the next day, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you would do something like what Jihoon was recounting for you. 

Wincing in embarrassment for you, Soonyoung watches you stare at your wine glass for a full minute before you slide your purse on to your shoulder and clear your throat. 

“Uh… I’m so fucking sorry, Jihoon. I’m sorry to both of you. For today and for that night. Fuck…for any night that I have done anything stupid like that.” 

When you start to stand up to leave, Soonyoung reaches out to take your hand with a frown on his face. You close your eyes, feeling his thumb press against your palm as he grounds you to the moment, his voice soothing you like his hand had rubbed your back moments before. 

“No one is mad at you or upset. Honestly, not many others really know. Some of them assume something is up but personally, I just want you both to be happy. You clearly like each other.” 

Closing your eyes, you swallow hard feeling tears that threaten to fall as they collect behind your lashes. It wasn’t that simple, but neither of your friends knew that. Shaking your head, you carefully pull your hand from Soonyoung’s. 

“I’m just a phase, Soonie. I–I gotta go. Have a good day. Sorry…” 

Barely meeting Jihoon’s eyes, you see him start to speak as you reach up to wipe away a tear as quickly as it falls before you slip past a group of people moving into the winery. 

“Fuck.” 

Nodding along with Soonyoung’s one word response to your exit, Jihoon sighs as you walk out of the door. He felt like he could have handled the situation better but he hoped you needed the push. 

Watching Jeonghan from his bed, Joshua lifts his brow as Jeonghan sighs for the umpteenth time. They had plans to go on a walking tour, to see the Eiffel Tower, the Seine River, and maybe even get some food before the end of the day, but now Joshua was feeling like those plans were changing. 

Lifting his hand to rub at his eyes, Jeonghan tries to push you from his mind and the tears he had seen on your cheeks as he had walked back to your room with you. He tried to forget the sad smile you had given him as you said goodnight and handed him back his jacket—the jacket he was thinking about putting on for the day. Now the jacket was lying on his bed, and he had stared at it, sighed at it, and walked away from it multiple times as his best friend watched thoughtfully. 

“Did the jacket offend your family?” 

Laughing into a breath, Jeonghan slides his hand down his face and over his lips as he shakes his head. He knew Joshua was trying to lighten the mood and make him laugh but he had no idea what was really going on. As far as Jeonghan knew, no one knew about his arrangement with you—well, besides Dokyeom but he was clearly just observant. 

“Nah…just not sure I wanna wear it.” 

Sighing, Joshua purses his lips as Jeonghan picks up the jacket and brings it to his nose, taking in a breath before shaking his head. Either he hadn’t washed the jacket in a long time or something else had happened with it that he wasn’t telling Joshua about, which only meant one thing. 

“So, did you wanna tell me what's going on? This have anything to do with the texts I’m getting from Jihoon about how fucking depressed Y/N seems today?” 

Furrowing his brows, Jeonghan looks down at the jacket in his hands. It smelled like you, not just your perfume but just you and he knew if he wore it today he would be even more lost in his head. Joshua’s words pull him back from his thoughts but only make him put up an instant facade as Jeonghan smiles and shakes his head. 

“Huh? What do you mean? Is she, uh, she okay? Should I text her?” The facade starts to crack the moment he tries to talk about you; no matter how good of a liar Jeonghan could be when it came to you, it was becoming harder to pretend. Licking his lips, Jeonghan looks down and manages to continue what he was saying. “I’m not sure what I could say to help her, but I could check on her if you think I should.” 

Laying his jacket across a chair, Jeonghan shakes his head at his own weakness, knowing he must look like an idiot. As Joshua just sighs and sits up on the bed. He knew that look even without actually seeing it. He had been best friends with Joshua Hong for nearly a decade; they were closer to brothers than friends at this point and if there was anyone that it was difficult to lie to, it was him. 

“Stop. I’ve pretended not to notice because you two obviously wanted to keep it a secret but I know you better than almost anyone.” Tilting his head, Joshua watches Jeonghan scoff as he listens to him speak. “I thought you would just tell me when you were ready but something happened, so just fucking talk to me, man. I hate seeing you miserable. I don’t like seeing Y/N upset either.” 

Reaching up to once again pinch the bridge of his nose like he is getting a headache, Jeonghan moves back to his bed, sitting down on it with a loud sigh. The sigh was one of defeat mixed with relief as he finally met Joshua’s eyes and nodded. 

“I fucked up. I could have fucked anyone else and it wouldn’t have mattered but it’s been her.” 

Joshua’s shoulders lift as he takes in a deep breath, getting confirmation of what he had assumed to be true. He knew things had been different for months but he also knew that even if Jeonghan hadn’t wanted to admit it to you or to most of the others, he had had a crush on you for years. 

“Okay… So, like last night or?” 

The question hangs in the air until Jeonghan tilts his head and winces out of embarrassment and anxiety. Joshua had known the answer to his own questions but that hadn’t stopped him from hoping this wasn’t as messy as it seemed. With the look on Jeonghan’s face, he knew it was a potential tangled web that could lead to the end of friendships. 

“Shit–I..okay, I mean, I figured, but...” 

Scoffing in disbelief, Jeonghan leans over his knees, putting his head in his hands. Had he been that obvious. He knew he had gotten a little jealous lately and maybe a bit more careless when it came to how he was acting towards Mingyu, but otherwise he felt like he wasn’t that transparent. 

“I assume you aren’t dating.” 

Shaking his head, still unable to meet Joshua’s eyes out of fear of what he will find in them, Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes. 

“But you are, and correct me if I’m wrong here. You are in love with her.” 

Fingers dig into his scalp hard as Joshua says the words out loud so flippantly. Narrowing his eyes, Joshua leans forward to watch Jeonghan as he processes what he had said before he sits up and slaps his hands down over his thighs with an unamused laugh. 

“Because I’m an idiot.” Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan still avoids Joshua’s as his voice wavers even slightly. “You know we came up with rules? I came up with most of them when we decided to do this.” Pushing his thumbs into the meat of his thighs, Jeonghan lets out an unamused laugh as he seems to bask in his stupidity and the levity of the situation. “All because I wanted her to agree to sleeping with me because I thought that was the only way I’d get her to be with me.” 

While Joshua could see how, where, and why the arrangement came to be, it still made him sad as he watched his best friend breakdown. He had never been in a similar situation and he didn’t think of you in the same way, but he did see how Jeonghan looked at you. 

“Why would that be the only way? Why didn’t you just ask her out?” Scoffing, Joshua gestures towards his friend as if trying to get him to see reason as he speaks, his voice kind but firm. “Why don’t you ask her out now?” 

Now Joshua was being ridiculous. He knew his best friend was intelligent—perhaps one of his smartest friends—but that idea sounded akin to driving his car into the ocean. Jeonghan wasn’t sure what he would do if he knew for sure that you didn’t care about him in the same way. 

“And risk losing one of my best friends? Are you fucking insane? She doesn’t like me like that, Shua.” 

Standing up, Jeonghan starts to pace. The weight of Joshua’s eyes is heavy but somehow it is still a comfort, even when he knows that he is frustrated with him. Narrowing his eyes, Joshua looks away from Jeonghan after a moment to look at his phone, seeing a text message from his group chat with Jihoon and Soonyoung. Lifting the phone from the bed, he scoffs under his breath, glancing towards the man in front of him as Jeonghan gnaws at his thumbnail, lost in thought. 

"Clearly, she does. Jihoon said she’s not going to make it through the wine tour with them.” Glancing back down at his phone, Joshua texts back as he speaks quietly, knowing Jeonghan is still paying attention to him. “And I know we aren’t going out. You two need to fucking talk.” 

Jeonghan’s mouth starts to open, only to close when he meets Joshua’s eyes as he looks over his phone. He knew it wasn’t a suggestion but the idea of it was terrifying. 

“Figure it out, Jeonghan. Don’t throw away your friendship and the potential of something else over your pride.” 

Sliding off the bed to stand up, Joshua pats Jeonghan on the shoulder, making sure to meet his eyes and see some understanding behind them before heading to the door. 

You hadn’t necessarily needed a shower after your failed trip to the winery, but the hot water running over your face and body felt good and it had washed away your tears. The only unfortunate thing was that it only lasted as long as you stayed in the shower and as you sat on your bed, skin still slightly damp under loose clothes, you felt the weight of everything pushing back down on you. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There had been rules to stop any of this pain and yet from the first time that you and Jeonghan had slept together, there had been pain. You had known then that you should have stopped but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to stop that time or any other time after it, not even last night, as your heart felt like it was breaking into two. It was only the day after you felt like the most idiotic person on the face of the planet, thinking you could have more with someone who didn’t love you back, that you regretted it all. 

Maybe it was time to end it. 

Leaning to pick up your cell phone, you stare at Jeonghan’s name for a moment before pressing your thumb down over his name and putting the phone to your ear, listening to it try to connect. Closing your eyes, you take a breath, only to furrow your brows a moment later when you hear his ring tone as if it's just outside of your door. 

“Hey, let me in, please.” 

His voice was quiet but you could still hear him from two places, your phone and on the other side of the door. Taking a breath, you look at your phone, hearing the sound of a phone call ending knowing that he is waiting for you to open the door. 

It was a simple task. Get up, unlock the door, open it, and greet Jeonghan, but as you looked at the door, knowing he was on the other side after everything that had already happened today and after what had happened last night it felt like you were preparing to scale Mount Everest. 

With one last deep breath, you move to your feet, take the few steps that feel like miles to the door and open it to meet Jeonghan’s eyes. You weren’t sure what you had expected to see when you saw him. Perhaps you had expected the usual with him—his handsome face and cocky smirk on his face but instead you were met with a solemn look and dark circles from a restless night. 

“I just… can we talk?” 

Nodding, you step to the side, letting Jeonghan move past you into the room as he pushes his hands into his jean pockets, only to take them out again out of nerves. Jeonghan had always been one of the most confident people you had known but today looking at him, you were seeing a different man. 

You were seeing the man that you saw late at night when he buried his face against your neck and muttered sweetly about it being the best place on earth. You were seeing the man who made you cry after those moments when he wouldn’t call you until three days later, seemingly just disappearing. This was the man who kept you on an emotional rollercoaster. 

“Yeah…I think we need to. I have something I wanna talk to you about too.” 

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, Jeonghan feels his heart in his throat before he tries to put on a facade, not knowing that it’s cracked, when he turns to look at you, offering you a sad smile. 

“Yeah? You…you–uh, wanna go first then?” 

Maybe after what Joshua had told him, he didn’t have to be the first one to say it. The words were so terrifying to him. Those words made him feel like you were going to run away from him and losing you as a friend and a lover was enough to make him feel like his chest was going to explode. 

Shaking your head, you lift your brows, offering Jeonghan an unamused laugh as you move back towards your bed to sit down, pulling your legs up to criss-cross them under you. Watching him move towards you, Jeonghan pauses to meet your eyes before he sits down apprehensively beside you. 

“Sure… I’ve been thinking and I love – “ The words get caught in your throat but Jeonghan hears the word love, causing him to sit up, only for his heart to pound in his ears as you keep speaking. “Loved the sex but I don’t think I can do it anymore. You–We said we could call it off at any time.” 

The words make sense to Jeonghan but it is like he is in a tunnel where the wind is too loud for him to actually pick up on the sound of your voice as he stares at you, seeing your lips moving. You were asking to stop. You wanted to end it. That wasn’t what he thought you were going to say even if it made sense with the look he had seen in your eyes last night and with what Joshua had said earlier. 

“Jeonghan? You—I mean… It's nothing serious. That’s what you said. You’ve made that very clear, several times.” 

A smile pulls at Jeonghan’s lips before he laughs but you can tell he isn’t happy and nothing is funny. You know Jeonghan well enough to know when he is deflecting and when he is in pain. Shaking his head, Jeonghan looks down at his hands before closing his eyes, muttering to himself something you can’t quite make out. 

“What? You were too quiet, I couldn’t –” 

“I just said—I said I’m stupid.” 

Neither of you move; the room is silent as you watch with furrowed brows as Jeonghan reaches up to wipe under his eye, keeping his face hidden with his dark hair. You had seen Jeonghan cry before over serious things but something like this—the loss of a meaningless relationship—wasn't something you thought he would be upset over. You, on the other hand, felt like you were breaking as you watched the man you loved be upset, feeling like you couldn’t do anything to help him. 

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’ve done nothing –” 

Scoffing, Jeonghan glances at you, making you pause when you see the disappointment on his face. Sitting up, he turns towards you, starting to reach for your hand. He stops short, closing his hand into a loose fist and resting it on your knee. 

“I have done everything wrong, so I know you want to be nice and tell me to be kinder to myself but, Y/N, I’m so fucking stupid. Is it not painfully obvious that I am in love with you?” 

You look at Jeonghan with the same expression as you would a complex piece of literature. It was as if he had just tried to explain your feelings back to you, making you feel exposed to the sun. Shaking your head, you try to come up with the right words, only to let out a soft exhale of Jeonghan’s name, looking away. 

Finally scooting closer to take your hand in his, Jeonghan feels the hole in the pit of his stomach struggling to fill as he tries to salvage what he feels like he has ruined. Lifting his other hand, Jeonghan timidly dares to run his fingers along your jaw, turning your face towards him so he can meet your eyes once again. 

“I told you yesterday that I don’t deserve this... I don’t deserve you and I meant it, but baby, I love you so fucking much.” Swallowing down his emotion, Jeonghan licks his lips as he searches your eyes, trying to gauge your reaction, his hand trembling against your neck. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that I did it like this. I told you, I’m stupid.” 

It wasn’t fair; none of this was fair. It wasn’t fair that you felt like melting into Jeonghan’s touch or that you wanted to run away from him. It didn’t feel real and you had never imagined that Yoon Jeonghan would fall in love with you. You were just his stupid friend that he happened to be attracted to, but now he was telling you that everything you felt, he felt too. 

“What the hell, Jeonghan?” 

Your voice causes Jeonghan’s eyes to close; that whine in your voice sounds like the rejection that he was so terrified of. You look over his handsome face, feeling his hand fall from your neck when you make the leap, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. 

Jeonghan gasps at the feeling, his hand reaching back out, holding the back of your neck and pulling you in closer, your lips firmly against his as he furrows his brows. He knew that if you actually wanted him to let you go, he would. He would give you anything you wanted. He would have given you anything from day one if he hadn’t been so afraid. 

Resting his forehead against yours, Jeonghan listens to your soft breaths, your hands now clinging to the front of his shirt as if to keep him close to you. You hadn’t said anything back but right now he wasn’t sure he even needed you to; he just needed to know that you wanted him and you didn’t want him to leave. 

Lips brush against your cheek before Jeonghan whispers your name like a question, sitting back to look at you, searching for his answer. A nod and look of desperation in your eyes is enough for him to pull you into his lap and have his lips back on yours as his hands roamed your back under your shirt, feeling your skin under his fingers. 

Whining his name once again, you run your fingers through Jeonghan’s hair as you arch your chest against his, feeling chill bumps erupt along your skin at his touch. There was nothing that you wanted more than that feeling, the feeling of his hands on your body and his lips on your skin. 

Whispering “please,” you meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he groans, feeling you roll your hips over his. This hadn’t been his plan but he wasn’t going to deny you. He could feel his cock starting to get hard with every gentle grind of your hips over him and you were driving him crazy while making him fall in love with you all over again as he stared up at you. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want—everything—anything; just ask for it.” 

Moving to your knees, you rest your hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders, tilting your head to press your lips to his once more before speaking against them as you feel his hands rest under your ass. 

“Make love to me then, that’s what I want.” 

A breathy moan escapes from between your lips when Jeonghan lays you on your back and hovers over you, brushing his thumb across your cheek while admiring you. He had looked at you before but now he was wondering if he had ever really looked at you. He was noticing little things about the color of your eyes, freckles on your face, and how his heart was beating so hard. 

“I love you.” 

He had told you that he was in love with you but it was different hearing him say it that way and while he was looking at you like this. It felt real. Closing your eyes you feel the familiar tears start to well up in your eyes causing you to fight them as you reach up to hold Jeonghan’s wrist in case he were to change his mind. 

When tears do finally run from the corners of your eyes along your temples, Jeonghan takes a deep breath leaning to rest his forehead against yours letting you cling to him. He knew now that the tears last night were sad like he had feared. Making a silent promise to himself to make up for it, Jeonghan kisses you gently, his thumb brushing away some of your tears as he speaks against your lips quietly. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

You nod, nudging your nose against Jeonghan’s as your hands move to find the end of his shirt, working it up his torso. You feel the way his stomach tightens under your fingers when he takes a deep breath before sitting back to let you pull his shirt over his head.

The fabric falls from your fingers onto the bed, your eyes moving from Jeonghan’s face over his chest and down his stomach to where your fingers rest on the top of his jeans. Taking a deep breath, Jeonghan leans his head back to the feeling of your gentle touch and the much needed relief as you work the zipper of his jeans down. 

“Fuck…Let me take care of you this time. Please?” 

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan is happy to see the way you bite at your lips, your pretty smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you tilt your head on the bed to look at him almost innocently. Nodding, you lift your hips, letting Jeonghan shimmy your shorts down your legs. Licking his lips, Jeonghan kicks his jeans and boxers away. His eyes stay fixed on you, studying you as if you were a piece of art to be admired. 

“I love every part of this and if you want me to make love to you, let me do it right.” 

Arching your back, you let Jeonghan slide your shirt up and over your head. He was once again really looking at you as he moved back on to the bed and between your legs. You were bare in front of him and everything about you was perfect as he studied your body. He took note of every single mole and even the smallest of scars, stopping to kiss them on the way to lying between your thighs. 

Warm breath causes you to close your eyes and push your head back against the pillow. The first brush of Jeonghan’s tongue between your folds allows the tip of it to tease your clit, make your toes curl and gasp his name. 

Getting a taste of you had never been enough for Jeonghan and this time he was going to enjoy it as if it were the last time, just in case it was. He wanted you to remember the way his name felt on your lips. He wanted you to remember how his mouth felt between your legs and how his fingers felt buried deep inside you as he curled them back towards your stomach, making you arch off the bed. 

You gasp for a breath between moans. Reaching between your legs, you thread your fingers in Jeonghan’s hair as you push your hips towards his mouth, hearing him groan against your folds. He knew you inside and out and yet he had never made you cum so hard and so fast before. 

“Oh my god, Jeonghan, I can’t—ah!” 

Using his thumb to rub circles against your clit, Jeonghan watches you lift your hips, searching for your second orgasm, as he licks your cum from his lips. When you fall apart for a second time on his fingers, Jeonghan furrows his brows, cursing under his breath at the sight. There were few things on Earth that were that beautiful. 

Fingers carefully slip from you, making you whine at how empty you suddenly feel but once you glance at Jeonghan resting between your legs, sucking his fingers clean, you moan, lifting your hand to cover your face. He was such a handsome man and he was doing something that seemed so dirty. 

Smiling, Jeonghan tilts his head while watching you cover your face. He loved that no matter how much dirty shit had come out of your mouth in the past or how much the two of you had done, you always seemed so innocent. You were perfect in his eyes. 

Carefully pulling your hand from your face, Jeonghan presses his lips to your knuckles, looking down at you. You can’t help but notice the way your body heats up at the simple action and the way your heart tightens seeing him smile against your fingers. 

“You are so beautiful; don’t hide.” 

Pressing your lips together, you can only see Jeonghan’s gaze as he moves your hand back to the bed beside your head, his thumb pressing to your palm gently before he lets go completely. You were used to Jeonghan being more rushed with you. Not necessarily rough but you both knew what you liked in bed and it wasn’t that he was treating you like he was now; it wasn’t something you didn’t like; it had just never been on the table. How he was treating you now was intimate; he was treating you like a man in love, like he said he was. 

Brushing his lips against yours, Jeonghan smiles, feeling you do the same. He didn’t think there was a need to rush anything, especially if he was going to treat this like it might be the last time. You hadn’t told him how you felt and though he was hopeful, he wasn’t going to put words in your mouth. 

You moan softly against Jeonghan’s lips. The tip of his cock nudges against your entrance as his hand runs along your outer thigh to your knee and Jeonghan urges your leg up towards his hip. With his free hand, Jeonghan holds himself steady even as he groans on your lips, feeling your warm, wet walls pull him in and clench around his cock. 

Wrapping your leg around Jeonghan’s back, you let your head fall back, his thumb pressing against your skin just under your knee as he thrusts into you slowly and deeply. Pulling him in closer with your leg wrapped around him, you whisper Jeonghan’s name when he doesn’t start moving immediately. You knew that he liked to let you adjust but your desire for him was outweighing anything else. 

Nodding, Jeonghan moves his hand from your leg to cup your cheek, resting his forehead against yours as he rocks his hips to meet yours in a smooth, deep thrust that makes you moan out a sound similar to a sob. Jeonghan could tell the difference now as tears started to fall from your eyes, these tears were from pleasure and not because you were sad. These tears he would want to see any day of the week. Jeonghan would die to hear you sob his name as you clenched around his cock and begged him so sweetly not to stop. 

“I’m not, baby… you are so fucking perfect. Holy shit, I know I —” Groaning as he feels you clench hard around him, Jeonghan pauses to take a breath before burying himself inside of you as deep as possible feeling your thigh tremble as it rests against his side. “I know I’ve said it a few times now…but I love you. Fuck, I love you, not just this but you. Need you to understand that.” 

Your fingers scratch as Jeonghan’s shoulders as you feel the pressure building and the cord winding tighter and tighter as he pushes you towards another orgasm. It’s only his words that keep you grounded and make you whimper his name as you pull his mouth to yours to make him stop talking when you fall apart for him once again. 

Trying to breathe into your kiss, Jeonghan furrows his brows tightly, feeling the way your pussy hugs him and then tightens around him like a vice when you cum around him. His thrusts slow only for a moment before becoming harder and filled with even more purpose as Jeonghan starts to chase his own release. 

A choke groan gets caught in his throat when Jeonghan cums, filling you with each one of his thrusts. Your fingers dig into his shoulder and bicep, leaving half-moon divots to mark where you have been as he pushes you towards the headboard with each deep thrust. 

Soft lips walk across your throat and up to your jaw before finally making their way to your lips, pulling you back to reality. Jeonghan listens to your small whine when he slips from you once again, leaving you empty. Your arms and legs felt like they were being held up by strings until they were finally on the mattress and you found it hard to make them move again, causing you to pout and Jeonghan to laugh softly against your lips at your reaction to how tired you are. 

“Tired, baby?” 

You nod, leaning your head into Jeonghan’s palm as he brushes his hand over the side of your head and over your hair. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel his eyes searching your face for answers and you knew it was the one he was looking for. You hadn’t been ready to give it to him at first but the more you lay in his arms and even considered anything different, the more your heart told you that you already knew. 

“I love you, Jeonghan.” 

Finally hearing you tell him that you love him, Jeonghan closes his eyes and leans forward to rest his face against the crook of your neck with a sigh. You can almost feel the weight lift from him as he nods against your skin, placing a kiss on your neck before muttering quietly against the column of your neck. 

“I love you, too.” 

With his headphones half on his head, Mingyu stands in the doorway of his shared hotel room only for a moment before groaning and lifting his hand to cover his eyes at the sight in front of him. He had assumed that you and Jeonghan were together and after talking to Dokyeom, he knew even more—he knew more of the drama behind it—but clearly, that was hopefully a thing of the past. 

He just hadn’t wanted to be privy to it. 

Glancing towards the door and hearing the sound of a groan, you smack Jeonghan’s shoulder, causing him to look in the direction of your shocked face. Nothing of what had happened had been the plan, or else he would have told Dokyeom to keep Mingyu out of the room. 

“Gyu! Can you go? I am trying to do something here if you don’t —” 

"Literally, stop talking to me while you are naked. I’m gonna go stay in Dokyeom’s room.” 

You watch the door close, hearing the lock click in place, before meeting Jeonghan’s eyes, who shakes his head like Mingyu has done something wrong. 

“He didn’t know. Why are you mad at him? This is his room, Jeonghan.” 

Jeonghan silences you with a kiss making you sigh against his lips as he speaks between kisses. 

“I’m not mad.” Seeing you smile, Jeonghan kisses you softly once more before cautiously adding, “I just didn’t want him to interrupt my first time actually getting to fuck my girlfriend. Is that so wrong of me?” 

Narrowing your eyes, you feel your cheeks burn at Jeonghan’s choice of wording but you still can’t keep the smile off your face, feeling his fingers running along your stomach as he moves to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms. 

“Oh? Is that what happened? Is that who I am?” 

Jeonghan nods, wrapping his arm tightly around you, pulling you on your side to face him so his fingers can draw small circles on the small of your back as he looks into your eyes. 

“I fucking hope so.” 

Sitting on Dokyeom’s bed, Mingyu stares at the wall while Dokyeom stares at him, wondering what happened, until finally his friend looks at him and shudders in a full body cringe. 

“They were naked and possibly—you know. I will never be the same.” 

Making a face, Dokyeom pats Mingyu on the back before tilting his head and shrugging. 

“Well, it’s about damn time but better you see it than me.” 

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

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[pucksandpower]

Do-Over

Logan Sargeant x Andretti!Reader

Summary: Logan drowns his sorrows after being dropped by Williams and passes out in 2024 … he wakes up slightly hungover and very much in 2022 (aka the time travel fix-it fic)

Logan’s hands are shaking.

He’s staring at the email on his phone, reading it over for the third time, hoping the words will somehow rearrange themselves into something different. But they don’t. The screen doesn’t lie, and neither does the cold, detached tone of James Vowles.

Logan, I’m sorry to inform you that Williams Racing has decided to terminate your contract effective immediately. Your performance this season has not met the team’s expectations, and the decision has been made to move forward without you for the remaining races. We believe this is in the best interest of the team as a whole. You’ll find the details of the termination and the necessary steps moving forward in the attached document.

His eyes blur, and he forces himself to blink, trying to hold it together. He knows what this means — his F1 career, the thing he’s worked for his entire life, is over. And it’s not ending with a bang, but with a fucking email.

A knock on the door snaps him back to the present. He looks up, swallowing hard as James walks in without waiting for permission, just like he always does.

“Logan,” James begins, his voice calm, almost clinical. “We need to talk.”

“I got the email,” Logan mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Is this really how it’s going to end?”

James’s face is unreadable. “We’ve discussed this at length. The crashes, the lack of progress … it’s just not working out. The engineers and mechanics are frustrated. We’ve been more than patient.”

Logan feels a wave of anger rising in his chest, but he pushes it down. He knows it won’t help. “So that’s it? Nine races left, and you’re just … dropping me?”

“It’s not an easy decision,” James replies, crossing his arms. “But we have to think about the team. We can’t afford any more setbacks.”

“Setbacks,” Logan echoes, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That’s all I am to you? A setback?”

James hesitates, his expression softening for just a moment. “Logan, you’re talented, but this sport is ruthless. You know that.”

“Don’t,” Logan snaps, his voice sharp. “Don’t try to soften the blow now. You could’ve at least told me in person, before sending the damn email.”

James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it seems cold, but this is the reality of Formula 1. You’ll land on your feet. You’ve got potential.”

“Potential,” Logan mutters under his breath. “That’s not going to get me back in a car, is it?”

There’s a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. Logan feels like the walls are closing in, the air in the room growing thicker with each passing second.

“I’m sorry,” James says finally, and for the first time, he sounds genuine. “I really am.”

“Yeah,” Logan replies, his voice hollow. “Me too.”

James lingers for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but there’s nothing that can fix this. Nothing that can make it right. Finally, he nods and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

Logan stands there, staring at the door, his mind racing. This can’t be happening. It feels like some kind of nightmare, one he can’t wake up from. But the harsh reality is setting in. It’s over. All those years, all that effort, and it’s over just like that.

He sinks down onto the couch, his head in his hands. His chest feels tight, like he can’t get a full breath. He needs to get out of here, but he has no idea where to go. Where do you go when your dreams have just been crushed?

His gaze falls on the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small kitchen counter. He bought it a few years ago, intending to open it after a win that never came. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Logan pushes himself up and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and a glass. He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and puts the glass back. What’s the point of pretending there’s any dignity left in this?

He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink, the burn of the alcohol offering a brief distraction from the pain gnawing at his insides. He leans against the counter, staring out the window at the darkening sky. How the hell did it come to this?

He’s replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity, every race where he could’ve done better. It’s a torturous cycle, one that he can’t escape. He takes another drink, then another, hoping to drown out the thoughts, to numb the ache in his chest.

But it doesn’t work. The alcohol just makes it worse, amplifying the guilt and the regret. He feels like a failure. No, he is a failure. The team didn’t even have the decency to let him finish the season. That’s how little they think of him.

The room starts to blur around the edges as the whiskey takes effect, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He’s spiraling, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. This is the only way he knows how to cope, the only way to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.

Hours pass, or maybe minutes — he’s lost track of time. The bottle is nearly empty now, and he’s slumped on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. What’s the point?

The apartment is silent except for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. It’s eerie, this quiet, and it makes the emptiness inside him feel even more profound.

Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The screen is cracked from a previous fall — one of many — but it still works. There are messages from friends, from his family, but he doesn’t open them. He knows what they’ll say. They’ll be supportive, encouraging, but it won’t change anything. They can’t fix this.

Instead, he opens his camera roll and scrolls through the photos. Pictures of him in the car, of the team, of moments that once meant everything to him. Now they’re just reminders of what he’s lost.

He stops on a photo of himself, taken just after he signed with Williams. He looks so damn happy, so full of hope. He barely recognizes that person now.

“What a joke,” he mutters to himself, his voice slurred. “What a fucking joke.”

He takes one last drink from the bottle, then tosses it aside, not caring as it rolls across the floor. He feels the darkness closing in, pulling him under, and for once, he doesn’t fight it. He lets it take him, lets it drown out the pain, the regret, the fear.

And as he finally drifts into unconsciousness, the last thought that crosses his mind is that maybe — just maybe — he deserves this.

***

Logan wakes with a start, his head pounding, the taste of stale whiskey thick on his tongue. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the assault of the light streaming through the windows. His whole body feels like it’s been put through a blender — sore, achy, heavy. But it’s not just the hangover, it’s the weight of everything, of what happened yesterday.

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he sits up, his hands pressing into the bed beneath him. Except, the texture’s wrong. It’s not the rough fabric of his apartment’s couch or even the smooth, cool sheets he’s used to.

Logan’s eyes snap open, and he looks around, confusion crashing over him like a cold wave. He’s not in his apartment. The walls are different — cleaner, the color a familiar light blue he hasn’t seen in years. The bed is narrow, uncomfortable, with plain white sheets. There’s a desk pushed against the far wall, a locker in the corner with his name printed on it in block letters.

This isn’t his apartment. This is … his driver’s room. The one he used when he was driving for Carlin in Formula 2.

“What the hell …” Logan mutters, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of it. He must still be drunk. Or maybe he’s dreaming. But no — he can feel the dull ache in his temples, the dryness in his throat, the uncomfortable press of the mattress beneath him. This is too real to be a dream.

But it doesn’t make any sense. The last thing he remembers is passing out in his apartment after finishing nearly a whole bottle of whiskey. He was a mess. He is a mess. But here he is, waking up in a place he hasn’t seen since 2022, a place that shouldn’t exist in his present reality.

Panic starts to set in. He fumbles for his phone, which is miraculously still in his pocket. The screen lights up, showing the date and time.

September 10th, 2022.

His heart stops. That’s impossible. It’s been two years. Two years since this date. His mind races, trying to piece together what the hell is happening, but nothing fits. He’s not in 2024 anymore. Somehow, he’s back in 2022.

It’s the only explanation, but it’s insane. None of this is possible. It’s not even like those vague dreams where everything’s familiar but distant. This is his life two years ago, down to the worn fabric of the team jacket hanging on the back of the door.

Before he can spiral any further, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Logan barely has time to react before it swings open, and Gary Catt, his manager, strides in with his usual briskness, already talking before the door is fully open.

“Logan, I just got off the phone with Jost Capito,” Gary says, his voice all business, not noticing Logan’s stunned expression. “Williams wants you. They want to lock you in for next season. It’s the best possible scenario. This is it, Logan — this is what we’ve been working toward.”

Logan feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. This conversation — he remembers it. It happened. Gary, standing in this very room, telling him the exact same thing, with the exact same excitement in his voice. The memory is vivid because it changed everything. It was the start of his F1 career. And also … the start of everything that led to that email.

“Logan?” Gary’s voice cuts through the fog in Logan’s mind, pulling him back to the present. “Are you even listening? This is huge, mate. You’re going to be in F1.”

Logan’s throat is dry, his mind racing with possibilities, with consequences. He remembers how he felt the first time he heard these words — pure elation, followed by a rush of nerves. But now, with the knowledge of what’s to come, all he feels is dread.

This is his chance to change things. To make sure it doesn’t end the way it did yesterday. He’s been given a do-over, a second chance, and he can’t afford to mess it up.

Logan takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Gary,” he says, his voice rough from sleep and the alcohol, “I don’t think I should take the offer.”

Gary stops mid-stride, turning to face Logan with a look of utter disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t think I should take the offer,” Logan repeats, more firmly this time, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s too soon.”

“Too soon?” Gary looks at him like he’s just sprouted another head. “Logan, this is Williams. It’s F1. There is no such thing as ‘too soon’ when an opportunity like this comes around. What are you talking about?”

Logan stands up, pacing the small room, trying to gather his thoughts. How does he explain this without sounding completely insane? He can’t tell Gary what he knows — what he’s seen, what’s happened. But he also can’t go down the same path again. Not when he knows where it leads.

“I just … I don’t think I’m ready,” Logan says, finally turning to face Gary. “If I rush into F1 now, it could end badly. I need more time. More experience.”

Gary’s expression shifts from disbelief to concern. “Logan, listen to yourself. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life. You’re as ready as anyone can be. If you pass this up, there’s no guarantee another chance like it will come along. You know that.”

Logan shakes his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but … I have a feeling that if I take this now, it’ll be a mistake. A big one. I’ll end up in a situation where I’m not able to deliver, where the pressure is too much. And that’s not good for anyone — me, the team, my career.”

Gary is silent for a long moment, studying Logan with an intensity that makes him squirm. “Where’s this coming from? You were over the moon about this before. What changed?”

Logan hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just … I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. About what I want my career to look like. And I don’t want to be one of those drivers who gets rushed into F1 and then crashes out because they weren’t ready. I want to do it right. I want to be fully prepared.”

“You don’t get to be fully prepared in this sport,” Gary says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “This is Formula 1. It’s sink or swim, and you know that. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this, Logan.”

Logan feels a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He knows Gary is right, in a way. This is F1. It’s not supposed to be easy. But he also knows that if he takes this offer, if he goes down the same road, it’ll end in disaster.

“I get that,” Logan says, his voice firm. “But I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to take the seat. Not this time.”

Gary stares at him, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Logan, this could be career suicide. You understand that, right?”

Logan nods, swallowing hard. “I do. But I’d rather take that risk than go into something I know I’m not ready for and crash out in a blaze of failure. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Gary runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “This isn’t like you. You’re not one to back down from a challenge. Why are you doing this?”

Because I know how it ends, Logan thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “Because I want to do this right. I want to have a long career in F1, not a short one that ends in disappointment. And to do that, I need to be smart about the choices I make now.”

Gary lets out a slow breath, clearly conflicted. “This is … I don’t even know what to say, Logan. You’re turning down a seat in F1. That’s not something you do lightly.”

“I’m not doing it lightly,” Logan assures him, though his heart is racing. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and it’s the right decision for me.”

There’s a long silence as Gary processes this. Logan can almost see the gears turning in his head, the calculations, the weighing of options. He knows how hard this must be for Gary to accept — hell, it’s hard for Logan to accept, and he’s the one making the decision. But he has to stick to his guns. He has to believe that this is the right choice.

Finally, Gary lets out a resigned sigh. “Alright, Logan. If this is really what you want, I’ll back you. But you need to understand the risks. This could close doors for you. Big ones.”

Logan nods, his stomach twisting with anxiety. “I know. But I also know that if I take this now, it could end up closing even more doors in the long run.”

Gary studies him for a long moment, then gives a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll let Jost know. But don’t expect him to be happy about it.”

Logan feels a mixture of relief and dread. “I won’t. But thanks, Gary. I know this isn’t easy.”

Gary gives him a tight smile, still clearly grappling with the decision. “No, it’s not. But you’re the one driving the car, Logan. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Logan nods, watching as Gary turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him. He stands there for a moment, taking in the silence, the surrealness of what just happened. He’s just turned down a seat in F1. The one thing he thought he wanted more than anything. But as the anxiety ebbs, a new feeling takes its place — determination.

This time, things are going to be different. He’s going to do it right, even if it means making the hard choices. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. This is his second chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

***

The 2023 F2 season ends in a flurry of champagne, confetti, and flashing cameras. Logan stands on the top step of the podium, the P1 trophy clutched in his hands, a grin splitting his face. He’s done it. He’s proved to everyone — most of all to himself — that he was ready. This time, he didn’t rush, didn’t let the pressure consume him. And it’s paid off. He’s the Formula 2 Drivers’ Champion.

But as the celebration winds down and reality sets in, Logan faces a new challenge. Despite his victory, the F1 grid is full, and F2 champions can’t return to the series. He could take a reserve role, bide his time, wait for a seat to open up. But that’s not what he wants. He’s not willing to spend another year on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity that may never come.

So when the offer from IndyCar comes, Logan doesn’t hesitate. He’s heard the stories — about the speed, the fierce competition, the thrill of racing on ovals. It’s not Formula 1, but it’s still racing at the highest level. And right now, that’s what he needs.

The decision surprises everyone. The media buzzes with speculation, but Logan remains focused. He knows what he’s doing. This is a new path, one that he’s chosen for himself, not because it was expected of him. He’s determined to make it work.

A few weeks later, Logan finds himself in the heart of Indianapolis, standing outside the office of Mario Andretti. The legendary name still carries a weight of history and reverence, even in this new world of racing. It feels surreal, like stepping into a different era of motorsport.

Inside the office, Mario is all business. The contract is laid out on the table between them, a simple piece of paper that represents Logan’s future. Mario goes over the details with the kind of thoroughness that only comes from years of experience, but Logan can barely focus. His mind is racing, thoughts darting between the past season, the unknown future, and the thrill of what he’s about to embark on.

“Everything looks good?” Mario asks, breaking Logan from his thoughts.

Logan blinks, then nods, forcing himself to concentrate. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Mario slides the pen across the table. “Then let’s make it official.”

Logan takes the pen, feeling the weight of the moment as he signs his name at the bottom of the contract. It’s done. He’s an IndyCar driver now.

Mario nods in approval, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Welcome to the team, Logan. We’re excited to have you.”

“Thank you,” Logan says, meaning it. This is a new beginning, and he’s ready for it.

They shake hands, and Mario stands, motioning towards the door. “I’d love to chat more, but I’ve got to head out. My granddaughter’s picking me up for lunch.”

Logan heads out of the office, his mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person rounding the corner until it’s too late. They collide, and Logan’s first instinct is to reach out, steadying the person as they stumble backward.

“Whoa, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, his hands gripping her arms as he helps her regain her balance.

“It’s okay,” you reply, laughing softly as you look up at him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Logan’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at you, the apology dying on his lips. You’re beautiful — stunning, even — with eyes that seem to sparkle with life and a smile that’s warm and inviting. For a moment, all he can do is stare, struck by how perfect you seem, like someone who’s stepped straight out of a dream.

“You alright?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study him.

Logan snaps out of it, quickly releasing his hold on you and stepping back. “Yeah, sorry again. I didn’t see you there.”

The door to Mario’s office opens, and the man himself steps out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the scene. “Everything okay out here?”

You turn to your grandfather, smiling brightly. “Just a little bump, Grandpa. Nothing to worry about.”

Mario’s expression softens as he looks at you, the sternness replaced by affection. “Good. I don’t want anyone getting hurt before lunch.”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and Logan finds himself smiling along, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“Logan,” Mario says, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat. This is Mario’s granddaughter? Of course, she is. It makes sense now, the confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. You’re part of a racing dynasty, just like Mario.

“Logan Sargeant,” Mario continues, introducing him to you. “He’s going to be racing with us next season.”

You offer him your hand, your smile never faltering. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Logan takes your hand, feeling a jolt of electricity as your fingers brush against his. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

You glance at Mario, then back at Logan. “We’re heading out for lunch. You should join us.”

Logan’s mind goes blank for a second, and all he can do is blink at you, trying to process what you just said. “Lunch? With you and … Mr. Andretti?”

You laugh again, and Logan thinks it might be the best sound he has ever heard. “Yeah, with us. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“No, no,” Logan stammers, trying to regain some composure. “I’d love to join you.”

Mario claps Logan on the shoulder, his laughter booming through the hallway. “Looks like you’ve made an impression already, kid. Come on, let’s get out of here before the press catches wind of this.”

Logan nods, still somewhat dazed as he follows you and Mario out of the building. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts — about the contract he just signed, the new chapter he’s stepping into, and now, about you. He can’t quite believe his luck. Not only is he starting a new adventure in IndyCar, but he’s also just met someone who, in the span of a few minutes, has completely captivated him.

As they walk to Mario’s car, Logan steals glances at you, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. You seem so at ease, chatting with your grandfather, your laughter punctuating the conversation. There’s a lightness about you, a warmth that’s infectious, and Logan finds himself drawn to it, to you.

“Logan,” you say, turning to him as you reach the car. “So, what made you decide to join IndyCar? It’s not every day an F2 champion makes that leap.”

Logan pauses, caught off guard by the directness of your question. “Well, uh,” he begins, trying to find the right words, “I guess I just wanted something different. F1 wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to sit around waiting for a seat to open up. IndyCar seemed like the right challenge. Something new, but still competitive.”

You nod, clearly intrigued. “That makes sense. It’s a bold move, but I think it’ll pay off.”

“Bold,” Logan repeats, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you assure him, your eyes sparkling. “I admire people who take risks. Especially when they’re as calculated as yours seems to be.”

Mario clears his throat, a knowing grin on his face as he watches the two of you. “Alright, kids, enough shop talk. Let’s get some food.”

You and Logan exchange a smile before sliding into the back seat of the car. The conversation flows easily, despite Logan’s initial nerves. You ask him about his time in F2, what it was like racing on the different tracks, how he handled the pressure. Logan finds himself opening up more than he expected, the words coming easily under your encouraging gaze.

Mario chimes in every now and then, adding his own insights, but it’s clear he’s content to let the two of you do most of the talking. He watches with an amused glint in his eye, as if he’s already figured out something that Logan is just beginning to realize.

By the time you reach the restaurant, Logan feels like he’s known you for much longer than the short time you’ve actually spent together. There’s an ease between you that he’s rarely felt with anyone else, a connection that seems to have sparked almost instantly.

Inside the restaurant, Mario insists on taking the head of the table, leaving you and Logan to sit across from each other. As you settle in, you continue to ask Logan questions, but now they’re more personal — what does he do outside of racing? What’s his favorite movie? Does he have any hidden talents?

Logan answers as best he can, though he’s still reeling a bit from how quickly this day has turned into something he never expected. He’s just signed with IndyCar, but more than that, he’s sitting across from someone who makes his heart race faster than any car ever could.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Logan,” Mario says suddenly, breaking into the conversation. “I’ve seen a lot of young drivers come and go, but you … you’ve got something special. Just keep your focus, and you’ll go far.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andretti,” Logan says, his voice sincere. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Call me Mario,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “We’re family now, after all.”

Logan smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him at the word “family.” It’s strange, how quickly things have shifted, how he’s gone from a solitary driver trying to make his way in the world to someone who might actually belong here, in this new place, with these new people.

As the lunch continues, Logan finds himself growing more comfortable, the initial awkwardness fading away. You keep the conversation lively, sharing stories about your grandfather, about your own life, and Logan can’t help but be drawn to your passion, your intelligence, your warmth. It’s clear that you’re not just Mario Andretti’s granddaughter — you’re your own person, with your own dreams and ambitions.

Eventually, the meal winds down, and Mario excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but charged, filled with the unspoken things neither of you have quite put into words yet.

“So,” you say, leaning forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips, “what do you think of Indy so far?”

Logan grins, feeling a boldness he didn’t expect. “Well, it just got a whole lot more interesting.”

You laugh, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, his voice softening as he looks at you, really looks at you. “I think I am too.”

You hold his gaze, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels almost like fate.

Before the silence can stretch too long, Mario returns, his phone call finished. He glances between the two of you, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look that makes Logan’s ears burn. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, standing up and giving Logan one last, lingering smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Logan stands as well, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you and Mario head out of the restaurant, Logan lingers for a moment, watching you go. He can’t quite believe what just happened, but one thing is certain — his life just got a lot more complicated, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he walks out into the bright sunlight, Logan can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He’s taken a leap into the unknown, and it feels like the start of something incredible.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, vibrating through the very core of the Speedway as Logan crosses the finish line first. It’s the 107th running of the Indianapolis 500, and he’s just won it. The realization hits him like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath out of him. He’s an Indy 500 champion. In his rookie season, no less.

The engine growls as he coasts to a stop, and for a moment, all he can do is sit there, hands trembling on the steering wheel. His heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he lets out a breathless laugh, disbelief and elation mingling into something indescribable.

“Logan Sargeant wins the Indy 500!” The announcer’s voice echoes through the speakers, barely audible over the cheers of the crowd. He hears it, but it still feels surreal, like something out of a dream.

The pit crew rushes over, the celebration already in full swing as they haul him out of the car. He’s immediately surrounded by a sea of people — team members, media, officials — everyone wanting a piece of this historic moment. But through it all, there’s one thing on his mind. One person.

You.

He’s searching the crowd, trying to spot you among the chaos. His vision is blurred with sweat and tears, but then he sees you — pushing your way through the throng of people, a look of pure joy on your face. You’re clapping, laughing, your eyes shining with pride, and all Logan can think is how he needs to get to you.

But first, there’s tradition to uphold.

One of the crew hands him the iconic bottle of milk, the symbol of victory. Logan takes it, still in a daze, and tilts it back, taking a long swig. The cold liquid is refreshing, cutting through the heat of the moment, and he can’t help but laugh as he lowers the bottle, milk dripping down his chin.

Without hesitation, he lifts the bottle above his head and pours the rest over himself. The milk runs down his face, soaking into his race suit, and the crowd goes wild, the noise level somehow reaching new heights. He feels on top of the world — unstoppable, invincible.

And then he spots you again, closer now, just on the edge of the crowd. Logan doesn’t think, doesn’t pause to consider anything else. He just moves, pushing through the throng of people until he’s standing right in front of you.

You’re smiling up at him, eyes bright with something that makes his heart race faster than it did on the final lap. Before he can stop himself, Logan reaches out, pulls you in, and kisses you.

It’s the kind of kiss that’s been building for months — the culmination of all the moments, all the glances, all the unspoken words between you. You taste like the victory he’s just claimed, like the adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins, like everything he’s been chasing since he first set foot in this world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, milk dripping from Logan’s face and onto yours. You laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.

“You’re lucky I’m not lactose intolerant,” you tease, licking the milk from his lips with a grin that’s both playful and suggestive. “But honestly? It’d be worth it even if I was.”

Logan laughs, a deep, full-bodied sound that comes from a place of pure, unfiltered happiness. He feels like he’s floating, like nothing in the world could possibly bring him down from this high. Not now, not ever.

“Best win of my life,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, still holding you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment disappear.

You tilt your head, still smiling up at him with those eyes that have captivated him from the start. “I’d hope so,” you say softly. “You just won the Indy 500.”

He shakes his head, a playful grin on his face. “No, I mean this.” He gestures between the two of you, the words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning.

For a second, you just stare at him, the noise of the crowd fading into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. And then you’re laughing, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

This one is softer, sweeter — less about the heat of the moment and more about the connection between you, the way everything just seems to fit when you’re together. Logan loses himself in it, in you, in this moment that feels like the culmination of everything he’s ever wanted.

When you finally break apart, the noise of the crowd floods back in, the celebration continuing around you. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world.

“Come on,” you say, tugging him towards the podium. “You’ve got a trophy to collect.”

Logan follows, still holding onto your hand, not willing to let you go just yet. The team is waiting, cheering him on, and as they hoist him up onto their shoulders, Logan realizes that this — this moment, this feeling — is what he’s been racing for all along.

Standing on the podium, the trophy in his hands, Logan looks out at the sea of faces, at the fans cheering his name, at the team celebrating their victory. But his eyes find you in the crowd, and that’s where they stay.

You’re smiling up at him, and Logan knows, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The beginning of something incredible, something he never saw coming but can’t imagine living without.

As the anthem plays and the confetti rains down, Logan lifts the trophy high, his heart full to bursting. He’s done it — he’s won the Indy 500. But more than that, he’s found something, someone, who makes all of it mean so much more.

And as he looks down at you, standing there with that bright, beautiful smile, Logan knows that he’s not just a champion. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.

***

The soft hum of the office fills the silence as Logan sits across from Mario, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The past year has been a whirlwind — plenty of IndyCar wins, that unforgettable victory at the Indy 500, and the life he’s built with you by his side. It’s been everything he didn’t know he needed, but now, as he sits in Mario’s office, there’s an air of something significant, something life-altering in the way Mario looks at him.

Mario clears his throat, leaning forward on his desk, hands clasped. “Logan,” he begins, voice steady, serious. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking — planning, actually — and I need to talk to you about something important.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat, the weight of Mario’s words sinking in. He nods, leaning forward slightly, feeling the anticipation coil tight in his chest. “What is it?” He asks, voice steady despite the flurry of nerves.

Mario takes a deep breath, then looks Logan squarely in the eye. “We’re buying Haas F1 Team. The deal’s already in motion, and we’ll be restructuring everything from the ground up to make our entrance into Formula 1 in 2026.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Logan’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he’s not sure if he’s heard Mario correctly. “Formula 1?” He echoes, almost disbelieving. His mind races, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as it gets,” Mario replies, his expression unwavering. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Logan. And now, with everything coming together, it’s finally happening. But here’s the thing-” he pauses, his gaze locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt, “I can’t think of anyone better suited to lead this team as our driver than you.”

The words hit Logan like a freight train. He stares at Mario, unable to speak, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Formula 1 has always been the dream, the pinnacle of everything he’s worked for. The chance he thought he’d lost — twice, if he counts the strange twist of fate that had brought him here in the first place.

“Logan, I know this is a lot to take in,” Mario continues, his tone softer now, understanding. “But I believe in you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, in F2, in IndyCar — hell, you won the Indy 500 in your first season. And I know you still have that fire for F1. This is your shot, kid. And I want you to take it.”

Logan feels the lump in his throat as Mario’s words sink in. The room seems to close in around him, the gravity of the moment pressing down like a physical weight. He’s had a lot of success in IndyCar, more than he ever imagined, and it brought him you — his reason to smile, his anchor in the storm. But Formula 1? That’s the dream he’s never fully let go of, even when he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He swallows hard, forcing the words out past the emotion threatening to choke him. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice thick. “I mean, this is … I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance like this.”

Mario smiles, the kind of smile that’s equal parts pride and encouragement. “I know it’s a lot, Logan. And it’s not an easy decision, especially considering everything you’ve built here in IndyCar. But I have no doubt in my mind that you’re the right person for this. You’ve got what it takes to succeed in F1, and I’m not just talking about talent. You’ve got heart, determination, and the ability to learn from your mistakes. That’s what makes a champion.”

Logan’s mind races, the possibilities spinning out in front of him. He thinks about everything he’s worked for, everything he’s achieved. And then he thinks about you — how you’ve been there with him through it all, supporting him, believing in him even when he doubted himself.

He takes a deep breath, his decision already forming in his mind, solidifying with each passing second. “Okay,” he says, meeting Mario’s gaze head-on. “I’ll do it. I want this, Mario. I want to prove to myself that I can do it right this time.”

Mario’s grin widens, and he stands up, offering Logan his hand. “Welcome to Andretti F1 Team. We’re going to do great things together.”

Logan shakes his hand, the reality of it all starting to settle in. He’s going to be a Formula 1 driver again. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, everything he’s ever wanted all over again. As he stands there, absorbing the magnitude of what’s just happened, he feels a strange mix of emotions — elation, fear, anticipation, and something else that he can’t quite name.

Mario walks him to the door, still talking about the next steps, the plans they have for the team, but Logan’s mind is half-focused on something else, someone else. As the door swings open, the conversation comes to a halt. The sight that greets them both brings a grin to Mario’s face and a burst of laughter from Logan.

You’re standing there, your ear pressed to the door, looking guilty as hell when you realize you’ve been caught. You straighten up quickly, trying to play it off, but the blush spreading across your cheeks gives you away.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” Logan teases, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. There’s a lightness in his voice that wasn’t there moments ago, the news already settling into a place of excitement rather than apprehension.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, but failing miserably. “I, um … I might have been curious,” you admit, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “Looks like we’ve got a new team spy, Logan. Better watch out.”

Logan can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He steps out of the office, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You know, you didn’t have to spy,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I would’ve told you everything.”

You look up at him, your smile fading slightly as something more serious takes its place in your eyes. “I just … I wanted to know if it was good news,” you say quietly. “I know how much F1 means to you.”

Logan feels his heart clench at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. You’ve always understood him, always known what drives him, what keeps him going. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “It’s great news,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting a second shot at F1, and I’m not going to mess it up this time.”

Your smile returns, bright and full of the same determination he feels. “I know you won’t,” you say confidently. “You’re going to do amazing things, Logie. And I’ll be right there with you.”

Logan’s chest tightens with emotion, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Good thing you won’t have to find out,” you reply, your tone teasing but laced with affection.

Logan’s heart swells, and before he can stop himself, he lifts you off your feet, spinning you around in a circle. You yelp in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the hallway.

He sets you down gently, your laughter fading into a soft smile as you look up at him. There’s a moment of quiet, the world around you fading away as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. Logan leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate, a promise of what’s to come.

When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Logan feels a sense of calm settle over him. Everything is falling into place, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

With you by his side, he knows he can face whatever comes next.

“Ready to take on the world?” You ask, your voice light but your eyes serious.

Logan grins, squeezing your hand. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, he leads you down the hallway, the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.

***

The sun is barely up, casting long shadows across the Albert Park Circuit, but the air is already alive with anticipation. It’s the first day of preseason testing for the 2026 Formula 1 season, and the paddock is buzzing with the usual mix of excitement and nerves.

Teams are unpacking crates, engineers are huddled over laptops, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber is already in the air. But for Logan, walking through the paddock with you on his arm, it feels like stepping into a dream — one he’s worked too damn hard to make a reality.

He adjusts the collar of his Andretti jacket, the weight of the moment not lost on him. This is it. His second chance — though, thanks to the bizarre twist of fate, no one else knows it’s his second. Everyone around him sees a rookie, an American hopeful making his debut with Andretti’s new F1 team. But Logan knows better. He’s here with experience that no one can fathom, and he’s determined not to waste it.

As you walk beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, he can’t help but steal a glance at you. There’s a brightness in your eyes, a mix of pride and excitement that mirrors his own. “You okay?” He asks, squeezing your hand gently.

You look up at him and smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart do a little flip. “I’m more than okay,” you reply. “I’m with you, and we’re about to watch you live your dream. What could be better than that?”

Logan grins, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. You’ve been his rock through everything — the highs, the lows, the strange, unexplainable journey that brought him back here. He’s never been more certain that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As you make your way through the paddock, heads turn. It’s not just because Logan is here with the legendary Andretti team, but because of the woman at his side. He catches a few curious glances, some surprised, others appreciative, and he can’t blame them. You’re a sight to behold, and he’s proud to be walking in with you.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan spots a familiar face. Oscar Piastri, decked out in McLaren colors, is standing near the entrance to the pit lane, chatting with a few team members. It’s been years since they last spoke properly — back when they were both climbing the ranks in the junior series, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of track.

They were close once, but life pulled them in different directions — Oscar to McLaren, Logan to IndyCar. And now, here they are, both in Formula 1, albeit on different paths.

Logan feels a wave of nostalgia, and before he can overthink it, he’s steering you in Oscar’s direction. As you approach, Oscar looks up, and for a split second, there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it melts into a wide, genuine smile.

“Logan Sargeant,” Oscar says, his Australian accent as thick as ever. He steps forward, hand outstretched, and Logan takes it, shaking firmly. “I’ll be damned. You actually made it.”

Logan chuckles, the sound more relaxed than he feels. “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s been a long road, but here I am.”

Oscar’s smile widens, his grip on Logan’s hand lingering for just a moment longer. “It’s good to see you, mate. I was wondering when you’d show up in F1. Figured you were having too much fun in IndyCar to come back.”

“There was a lot to love about IndyCar,” Logan admits, glancing at you with a fond smile. “But F1 was always the dream, you know? Couldn’t pass up a chance like this.”

Oscar nods, understanding clear in his expression. “I get it. And with Andretti, no less. That’s a hell of a team to start with. You’re going to shake things up around here, I can tell.”

Logan shrugs, trying to play it cool even as his heart pounds with the reality of it all. “That’s the plan. But enough about me. How’s life at McLaren? You guys ready to give us a run for our money?”

Oscar laughs, the sound light and easy. “Always. McLaren’s been working their asses off, and I’m feeling good about this season. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because we’re old friends.”

Logan grins, feeling the competitive spark that’s always driven him reignite. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve gone wheel-to-wheel. I’m looking forward to it.”

Oscar’s gaze shifts to you, his curiosity evident. “And who’s this?” He asks, his tone polite but genuinely interested.

Logan’s grin softens as he looks at you. “This is my better half,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “She’s the one who keeps me sane.”

You smile at Oscar, offering your hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Oscar. Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

Oscar shakes your hand, his smile warm and welcoming. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly,” you tease, throwing Logan a playful glance.

Logan laughs, feeling a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s good to be here, good to be surrounded by the familiar banter and camaraderie that he’s missed. He knows the road ahead is going to be tough — F1 is nothing if not ruthless — but with you by his side and old friends welcoming him back, he feels more ready than ever to face whatever comes his way.

Oscar steps back, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Well, I’d better let you guys get settled in. But hey, we should catch up properly later. Maybe grab a drink after testing?”

Logan nods, appreciating the offer. “Definitely. It’s been too long.”

As Oscar walks away, Logan watches him for a moment, the memories of their shared past mingling with the excitement of the present. It’s surreal, being here again, but this time with the weight of everything he’s learned, everything he’s fought for.

You tug gently on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” You ask, your voice soft and curious.

Logan smiles down at you, squeezing your hand. “Just how different things are now,” he admits. “But in a good way. I’ve got a second shot at this, and I’m not going to waste it.”

You nod, your eyes shining with the same determination he feels. “And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

Logan feels a swell of emotion, gratitude, and love that he can’t quite put into words. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The two of you continue walking, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you focus on each other. The day ahead is full of unknowns — testing, strategy meetings, the inevitable pressure of proving himself — but with you by his side, Logan feels ready for anything.

As you make your way to the Andretti garage, the team members greet Logan with nods and smiles, and he can see the mix of curiosity and expectation in their eyes. They’re all in this together, building something new, something that has the potential to be great. And Logan is determined to be the driver they need, the one who can lead them to success.

You squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “You’re going to do amazing, Logan. I can feel it.”

He smiles, the confidence in your voice bolstering his own. “Thanks. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” you reply, your gaze unwavering.

As the day progresses, Logan finds himself falling into the rhythm of the paddock. The familiar sounds of engines roaring to life, the chatter of engineers discussing data, the focused intensity that permeates every corner — it’s like he never left. But this time, there’s a new layer to it all, a sense of belonging that he didn’t fully grasp the first time around.

He exchanges nods and brief conversations with other drivers as they pass by, some offering congratulations, others sizing him up as the new competition. It’s all part of the game, the unspoken dance of respect and rivalry that defines the sport. But through it all, Logan keeps you close, your presence grounding him in the midst of the chaos.

As the day draws to a close, Logan finds himself back in the garage, the car stripped down and the team poring over the data from the day’s sessions. He’s tired, the kind of exhaustion that comes from both physical exertion and mental focus, but it’s the good kind of tired — the kind that tells him he’s exactly where he needs to be.

You’re standing nearby, chatting with one of the engineers, your laughter mingling with the sounds of the garage. Logan watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. You’ve always had a way of fitting in, of making everyone around you feel at ease, and he’s grateful for that — for you.

As if sensing his gaze, you look over at him and smile, that familiar warmth in your eyes. You make your way over to him, and when you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you close. The noise of the garage fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

“You did great today,” you say.

Logan holds you a little tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. “You’re the one out there driving, Logan. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”

He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “It means everything to me that you are,” he whispers.

For a moment, the chaos of the garage and the world outside fades, leaving just the two of you standing together, ready to face whatever comes next. Logan knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but with you by his side, he’s more than ready to take on the challenge.

***

The media room is buzzing with the usual pre-race energy, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling in the air as the drivers settle in behind the table. Logan’s seated between Oscar and Charles, the bright lights overhead casting sharp shadows across their faces. The backdrop behind them, plastered with sponsor logos and the official F1 emblem, feels almost like a stage, the press in front of them the audience waiting for their performance.

Logan shifts in his seat, glancing down at the bottled water in front of him. The press conference has been the usual mix of questions so far — how the cars are handling, expectations for the season, the general camaraderie between the drivers. But there’s an undercurrent, a sense that something more pointed is coming.

A journalist from the back finally stands, her voice clear and direct as she catches Logan’s attention. “Logan,” she begins, holding her recorder up, “there’s been some observation that every time you see James Vowles, your expression seems to … change. Almost like you’re not too thrilled to be around him. Any comment on that?”

There’s a moment of silence in the room, a collective breath held. Logan feels the gaze of every person on him, including the drivers beside him. He lets out a quiet laugh, trying to play it cool, but he can’t help the way his mind flashes back to the last time he’d faced Vowles, the man’s condescending tone, the cold dismissal that had sent him spiraling.

Oscar shifts beside him, giving him a sideways glance, probably wondering where this is going. Logan catches the edge of his own reflection in the shiny surface of the table and forces his expression into something neutral, even though the old bitterness is clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach.

“Bad vibes,” Logan says finally, his voice carrying just enough humor to keep it light, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “That’s what my girlfriend would say. He just … gives off bad vibes.”

There’s a ripple of laughter through the room, the tension breaking slightly. But the journalist isn’t done yet. “Bad vibes? Care to elaborate on that?”

Logan shrugs, trying to brush it off with a casualness he doesn’t quite feel. “You know, it’s one of those things. Sometimes you just don’t click with someone, right? It’s nothing serious.”

Charles, on his other side, leans into his mic, flashing a grin. “You’re not going to make us all paranoid about our vibes now, are you?”

The room laughs again, and Logan takes the opportunity to sip his water, hoping the moment will pass. But he can feel the weight of the past pressing against him, the memories of how it all went down before he’d found himself in this second chance. He knows better than anyone that this sport is a game of perceptions, of how you carry yourself, and he can’t afford to let the past taint his future.

Another journalist jumps in, steering the conversation toward safer waters — questions about the new car, how he’s adjusting to the Andretti team. Logan answers on autopilot, the usual lines about feeling confident, about how the team has been amazing. But in the back of his mind, he’s still thinking about that flash of disgust he couldn’t hide, the way his skin prickled when he saw Vowles earlier that day.

When the press conference finally wraps up, and the drivers are ushered out of the room, Oscar hangs back, falling into step beside Logan as they head toward the paddock. “So,” Oscar starts, keeping his voice low, “bad vibes, huh?”

Logan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know how it is,” he says, trying to keep it light, though he knows Oscar can see right through him.

Oscar just nods, not pushing any further, and Logan’s grateful for that. They walk in silence for a moment, the din of the paddock growing louder as they approach, engineers and team members bustling around them.

“Honestly, mate,” Oscar says after a beat, “if anyone’s going to bring some good vibes into F1, it’s you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan glances over, and there’s sincerity in Oscar’s expression that makes Logan’s chest tighten, the weight of everything he’s carried with him lightening just a bit. “Thanks, Oscar. That means a lot.”

They reach the Andretti motorhome, where you’re waiting for Logan, your eyes lighting up the moment you spot him. He feels a warmth spread through him at the sight, a reminder of what really matters.

You push off the wall you’d been leaning against, falling into step beside him. “So, how’d it go in there?”

Logan smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as they walk. “Let’s just say my reputation for honesty might have gotten a bit more solidified.”

You tilt your head up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “That bad, huh?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not bad, just … honest.”

You glance at Oscar, who’s still walking beside you, and give him a knowing look. “He always has to make things interesting, doesn’t he?”

Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “Never a dull moment with this one.”

As you make your way back into the motorhome, Logan feels the tension of the day starting to ebb away. The familiar scent of coffee and fuel, the low hum of conversations around him, and the comforting presence of you by his side — it all feels right. Despite everything, he knows this is where he belongs.

Once inside, the motorhome offers a brief respite from the chaotic energy outside. The team is prepping for final checks, and Logan knows he should be focusing on the task ahead, but there’s something nagging at him, a need to explain himself, to make sure you understand.

You catch the way his brows furrow slightly, the way his grip on your shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. “What’s up?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, looking for the right words. “I just … I don’t want to come off like I’m carrying a grudge or anything. That comment about Vowles — it probably sounded harsher than I meant it.”

You step closer, your hand finding his, grounding him. “Logan, it’s okay. Everyone has people they don’t vibe with. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

He nods, the tightness in his chest loosening as he looks into your eyes, seeing the unwavering support there. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s a gift. Plus, you make it easy.”

Oscar clears his throat, and both of you look over to see him trying not to grin. “I’m going to leave you two to it. Just don’t forget we have a race to focus on.”

Logan laughs, shaking his head as Oscar heads out. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right out.”

When Oscar’s gone, Logan turns back to you, his expression softening. “Thanks for being here. Really.”

You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Always.”

As you both make your way out to the garage, the sounds of the team preparing for the weekend reach your ears, and Logan feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the anticipation of what’s to come. The memory of the press conference, of Vowles, fades into the background. What matters now is the race ahead, the chance to prove himself once again, and the knowledge that whatever happens, you’re right there with him.

He glances over at you as they approach the car, and you catch him staring, raising an eyebrow in question. “What?”

Logan just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile playing on your lips. “You better believe it, Sargeant. Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got.”

He nods, feeling more centered than he has all day. With a final squeeze of your hand, he steps into the garage, ready to take on whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens on the track, he’s already won in the ways that truly matter.

***

The roar of the engines reverberates through the paddock, a constant hum that thrums in Logan’s chest as he steps into the Andretti garage. It’s yet another race weekend, and the energy is electric, a mix of anticipation and nerves hanging in the air.

The team is buzzing around him, mechanics fine-tuning the car, engineers buried in data, but Logan’s focus is on the familiar figure leaning casually against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the hustle with an almost serene smile.

Logan stops in his tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise. It’s not that Mario isn’t around — he’s a constant presence in the team, always keeping an eye on things — but he usually doesn’t show up this early in the weekend, and certainly not with that look on his face.

It’s a smile Logan recognizes all too well, a mix of pride and mischief that means only one thing: Mario knows something that everyone else doesn’t, and it’s going to shake things up.

Logan weaves his way through the garage, sidestepping the organized chaos until he’s standing in front of Mario. “You look like you’re up to something,” Logan says, crossing his arms to mirror the older man’s posture. “What’s going on?”

Mario’s smile widens just a fraction, his eyes glinting with a secret. “Now, what makes you think I’m up to anything, kid?”

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Because I know that look. You’ve got news.”

Mario doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pushes off the wall and motions for Logan to follow him to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team. Logan follows, his curiosity piqued. Whatever Mario’s about to tell him, it’s big.

When they’re sufficiently out of earshot, Mario leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You remember how I told you a while back that we were working on something big for the team?”

Logan nods, his interest fully captured. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Mario’s smile turns almost wicked. “Well, it seems that James Vowles and Williams think they’re going to secure Adrian Newey for next season.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. Newey is a legend in the sport, the kind of designer who can turn a good team into a championship-winning one. If Williams were to get him, it would be a game-changer. “Wait, you said they think they’re going to get him?”

“Exactly.” Mario’s grin is practically gleeful now. “What they don’t know is that Adrian’s already in talks with us. In fact, we’re just about ready to sign the deal.”

Logan lets out a low whistle, the magnitude of the news sinking in. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. By this time next week, Adrian Newey will be working for Andretti.”

Logan can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. This is huge, a move that will send shockwaves through the paddock. With Newey on board, Andretti’s chances of becoming a front-runner in F1 just skyrocketed. “I can’t believe it,” Logan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s going to change everything.”

Mario nods, satisfaction evident in his expression. “It’s a big deal, no doubt about it. But we’ve still got work to do. We can’t get complacent, not with what’s at stake. But this … this is a big step in the right direction.”

Logan’s mind is already racing ahead, thinking about what this means for the team, for his own career. The idea of driving a car designed by Newey is almost surreal. “When are you going to announce it?”

“Not until everything’s signed and sealed,” Mario replies. “But once it’s done, we’ll make sure the whole world knows. And Williams … well, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

Logan laughs, the sound coming out more exhilarated than he intended. The idea of one-upping Vowles, especially after everything that’s happened between them, is deeply satisfying. “I can’t wait to see the look on Vowles’ face when he finds out.”

Mario pats Logan on the shoulder, the gesture filled with a camaraderie that Logan has come to cherish. “Neither can I, kid. Neither can I.”

As they walk back towards the main part of the garage, Logan’s mind is still reeling from the news. He’s been focused on the present, on making sure he performs at his best every time he’s out on the track, but this … this opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. With Newey on board, there’s no telling what they can achieve.

When you spot him from across the garage, the look on his face must give away that something’s up because you immediately make your way over, your expression curious. “What’s going on?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

Logan glances around, making sure no one is within earshot, and then leans in, his voice low. “Mario just dropped a bombshell. Andretti’s about to sign Adrian Newey.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and Logan watches as a grin spreads across your face, mirroring his own excitement. “No way. That’s … huge!”

“I know,” Logan says, still barely able to believe it himself. “This changes everything.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, your voice filled with pride. “You’re going to be driving a car designed by Newey. Do you realize how amazing that is?”

Logan nods, the reality of it finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. It’s … I can’t even put it into words.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t have to. I can see it on your face.”

For a moment, Logan just stands there, soaking it all in. The garage is still bustling around them, the team oblivious to the monumental news that’s just been dropped in their laps. But Logan knows that soon enough, everything is going to change. This is the kind of move that can define a career, that can take a team from being contenders to being champions.

But more than that, it’s a chance for redemption. A chance to prove to everyone — including himself — that he belongs here, that he’s capable of more than anyone ever gave him credit for. The past is behind him now, and with you by his side, and Newey in the garage, the future looks brighter than ever.

Logan glances over at you, seeing the pride and excitement in your eyes, and feels a surge of gratitude. For the second chance he’s been given, for the team that believes in him, and for you, the person who’s been there through it all.

“We’re going to do something amazing, you know that?” Logan says, his voice filled with conviction.

You nod, your smile soft but full of certainty. “I know. And I can’t wait to see it.”

Neither can Logan.

***

Logan’s heart is still pounding from the rush of the race as he stands on the podium, feeling the weight of the Miami sun on his shoulders. The crowd roars below him, a sea of red, white, and blue as far as the eye can see, their energy pulsing through his veins. He can hardly believe it. A podium at his home race, in front of a crowd that feels like family, is something he’d dreamed about since he was a kid.

He turns, looking out over the crowd, his eyes scanning for you. You’re there, as you always are, standing with the Andretti team, your smile brighter than the sun. The mechanics are cheering, patting each other on the back, but Logan only has eyes for you. It’s like everything else falls away — the noise, the cameras, the pressure of the season — all of it fades into the background. All that matters is the way you’re looking at him, like he’s your entire world.

He takes a deep breath, the realization of what he’s about to do washing over him. His hands shake, just slightly, as he reaches up and touches the chain around his neck, feeling the weight of the ring that’s been hidden there for weeks, waiting for this moment.

Without another thought, he drops to one knee, right there on the podium. The world seems to stop as he looks up at you, the crowd going silent in his mind. He hears the sharp intake of breath from the Andretti crew, sees the shock on your face as you register what’s happening.

“Hey,” he says, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I … I don’t know if I can put into words what you mean to me. You’ve been with me through everything — the wins, the losses, the crazy twists and turns. And I can’t imagine going through any of it without you by my side.” He pauses, the weight of the moment sinking in. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is … will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen, and for a second, you’re frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. Then, as if breaking free from a spell, you laugh, a sound that’s pure joy, and nod vigorously. The next thing Logan knows, you’re being lifted onto the podium by the mechanics, tears of happiness streaming down your face as you launch yourself into his arms.

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I will!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, the noise deafening as Logan slides the ring onto your finger. He pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes like victory, love, and everything good in the world. The mechanics are going wild, chanting your names, and someone — Logan thinks it might be Mario — pops open a bottle of champagne, spraying it over everyone.

It’s chaotic, it’s perfect, and it’s a moment that Logan knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life. As he holds you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realizes that this — right here, with you in his arms, and his home crowd cheering around him — is the true victory. The rest is just a bonus.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You know,” he says, his voice low so only you can hear, “I always knew I was lucky. But this … this is something else entirely.”

You smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart skip a beat, and lean in to kiss him again. “We’re both lucky, Logan,” you whisper against his lips. “And this is just the beginning.”

***

The paddock is buzzing with activity, the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics creating a familiar symphony that Logan finds oddly comforting. It’s the start of another race weekend, but this one feels different. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation that has nothing to do with the cars or the track.

Logan slips away from the Andretti garage, his eyes scanning the bustling paddock as he makes his way toward the Williams garage. He’s done his best to stay clear of them ever since re-entering Formula 1, but today is different. Today, he has a reason to be there — a reason that brings a small, almost mischievous smile to his lips.

The Williams garage is a flurry of motion, mechanics and engineers huddled over laptops, surrounded by toolboxes and tires. The sight brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over Logan, but he quickly pushes it aside. He isn’t here for a trip down memory lane.

Spotting Alex Albon near the back, Logan weaves through the chaos, his steps light and easy despite the tension he can feel crawling up his spine. Alex is engrossed in a conversation with his race engineer, but when Logan steps up, he looks up in surprise.

“Logan!” Alex greets, his face splitting into a wide grin. “What are you doing here? Slumming it with the backmarkers?”

“Something like that,” Logan replies, his tone light as he pulls a small, cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Alex, who takes it with a curious tilt of his head. “Figured I should deliver this in person.”

Alex flips the envelope over, his eyes widening slightly as he reads the names printed in elegant script on the front — his and Lily’s. He breaks into a grin, already understanding what it is before he even opens it.

“No way,” Alex says, pulling out the invitation and quickly scanning the details. “You’re really doing it, huh? Getting hitched?”

Logan chuckles, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. “Yeah, we are. And we’d love for you and Lily to be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex replies, his grin softening into something more sincere. “Congrats, man. You two are great together.”

Logan nods, grateful for the genuine well-wishes. He’s about to say something else when a flicker of movement catches his eye. Glancing up, he sees James Vowles standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he watches the exchange between Logan and Alex.

For a brief moment, the past rushes back — the frustration, the disappointment, the sense of being discarded like a broken part. Logan feels a familiar pang of bitterness, but he quickly tamps it down. He isn’t that person anymore. He’s moved on, and he’s got better things — better people — in his life now.

Still, he can’t help himself.

He meets James’ gaze head-on, his smile shifting into something a bit more pointed, more deliberate. “Oh, James?” He says, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the noise of the garage. “Seems like your invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail. Real shame.”

James’ eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. The tension between them is almost tangible, thickening the air around them. Logan holds his gaze for a moment longer, then shrugs exaggeratingly before turning his attention back to Alex.

“Anyway, hope to see you there,” Logan says, clapping Alex on the shoulder before stepping back. “Tell Lily we’re looking forward to it.”

“Will do,” Alex replies, still smiling but with a touch of unease as he glances between Logan and James.

Logan doesn’t linger. He turns on his heel and strides back through the garage, the small, satisfied grin still tugging at his lips. He can feel James’ eyes boring into his back, but he doesn’t care. Let him stew, Logan thinks. He’s got more important things on his mind.

As he exits the garage and steps back into the sun-drenched paddock, Logan takes a deep breath, feeling lighter, freer. The thought of the wedding, of you waiting for him back in the Andretti garage, fills him with a sense of contentment that he never thought he’d find in the world of Formula 1.

He spots you before you see him, standing with Mario and a few other Andretti team members, animatedly talking about something. Your laughter rings out over the noise of the paddock, and Logan feels his heart swell with affection.

It’s funny how things work out, he thinks. How life has a way of surprising you, of turning things around when you least expect it. He’s come a long way from that lost, angry kid who thought he’d never get a second chance. And now, here he is, standing on the cusp of a future that’s brighter than anything he could have imagined.

He picks up his pace, eager to get back to you, to tell you about the exchange with Alex and the little jab he couldn’t resist throwing at James. But as he draws closer, you turn and catch sight of him, your face lighting up in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey, you,” you call out, stepping away from the group to meet him halfway. “Did you get it done?”

Logan nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I did. Alex and Lily are in.”

“And Vowles?” You ask, a knowing glint in your eyes.

Logan chuckles, slipping an arm around your waist as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Let’s just say … he didn’t make the cut.”

You laugh, the sound pure and full of joy, and it’s the best thing Logan’s heard all day. “Good. You don’t need that kind of negativity at our wedding.”

“No, I don’t,” Logan agrees, feeling a rush of relief that you’re by his side, making even the most awkward encounters bearable. “And anyway, we’ve got more than enough people who actually care about us.”

You nod, your expression softening as you look up at him. “Yeah, we do. And I can’t wait to celebrate with them — with you.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through him, the same warmth he’s felt ever since the day he realized just how much you meant to him. It’s a feeling that never gets old, no matter how many podiums or victories he racks up. Because at the end of the day, it’s moments like this — simple, shared moments with you — that matter the most.

As the two of you head back toward the Andretti garage, Logan can’t help but think about how far he’s come. From the chaos of that first season in Formula 1, the heartbreak of being dropped, to the wild success of his time in IndyCar, and now, back in the sport he loves, with you by his side.

He knows there will be more challenges ahead — there always are in this world. But for now, he’s content to focus on the here and now, on the love he’s found and the life he’s building with you.

And as you walk together through the paddock, the sun casting long shadows on the ground, Logan can’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Not because of the cars, or the fame, or even the victories, but because of you — because you’re the one thing in his life that makes all the twists and turns worth it.

And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wall of sound that crashes against Logan as he stands on top of the podium. His hands grip the trophy tightly, the cold metal grounding him as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s done it. Logan Sargeant, the kid from Florida who almost lost everything, is now the World Drivers’ Champion.

The first American to do so since Mario Andretti himself.

He’s fought hard for this moment, clawed his way back from the brink of obscurity, and now here he is, at the pinnacle of motorsport. The champagne sprays around him, but all Logan can focus on is the sight of you, beaming up at him from the edge of the podium. You’re standing beside Mario, who’s wearing a grin as wide as Logan’s ever seen. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands clasped together, eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and joy.

He barely registers the other drivers beside him, the interviews, or the flashes of cameras. Everything narrows to you and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. You’ve been there through it all, from the moment he took that leap of faith into IndyCar, to the sleepless nights before his first season back in Formula 1. Every high and every low has led to this, and you’ve never wavered.

Logan can’t help the way his gaze shifts slightly to the left, where James Vowles stands at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a tightness to his expression, a bitterness that Logan recognizes all too well.

But as much as he’d love to revel in that small victory, he finds that he doesn’t care. Not really. The vindication is sweet, sure, but it pales in comparison to the sight of you and the emotions radiating from you like the warmest of suns.

You notice him looking at you, and you blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it, holding it to his chest. There’s no place he’d rather be than right here, right now, with you by his side.

The ceremony starts to wrap up, and as the photographers move in closer for shots, Logan can see Mario nudging you forward. You’re waving your hands at your grandfather, as if to say no, you’re fine where you are, but Mario’s having none of it. The mechanics and team members part to let you through, and Logan watches with an ever-growing smile as you finally make your way up onto the podium.

When you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms without hesitation, lifting you off your feet as the crowd goes wild. He spins you around, feeling the way you cling to him, your laughter ringing out in his ear.

“You did it,” you say when he finally sets you down, your voice thick with emotion.

“No,” Logan corrects, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We did it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your eyes glisten. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” Logan teases, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I really do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mario clearing his throat, and Logan turns to see him holding a bottle of champagne, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Now, are we celebrating or what?”

Logan laughs, grabbing the bottle and popping the cork, spraying the contents over you and Mario, who both shout in surprise. The rest of the team quickly follows suit, and soon, the podium is a chaotic mess of laughter, champagne, and pure, unfiltered joy.

As the celebrations continue around him, Logan takes a step back, watching the scene unfold. His heart swells with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before. He’s always been driven, always had his eyes set on the next goal, the next race, the next win. But standing here, with you by his side, he realizes that he’s found something even more important than all of that.

He’s found a home.

A family.

And he’s never letting go.

The night carries on in a blur of congratulatory hugs, media obligations, and team celebrations. But as the crowd starts to thin and the energy begins to mellow, Logan finds himself sitting on the edge of the podium, his legs dangling off the side. The cool night air brushes against his skin, the sounds of the city in the distance providing a soft backdrop to the dwindling celebrations.

You find him there, sitting in silence, and without a word, you join him. You lean into his side, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“It’s still sinking in,” Logan admits after a while. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth. “You’ve earned it, Logan. Every single bit of it. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nods, resting his chin on top of your head. “It just feels … surreal. Like I’m living in a dream.”

“Well, if this is a dream,” you say, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “then it’s one I never want to wake up from.”

Logan chuckles softly, his heart swelling with affection. “You and me both.”

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, watching as the final remnants of the celebration begin to fade. The stadium lights dim, and the night sky takes over, a blanket of stars twinkling above you. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and Logan can’t help but feel grateful for this quiet moment with you.

“I used to think winning was everything,” Logan says after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. “That nothing else mattered as long as I crossed the finish line first.”

“And now?” You ask, your tone gentle, inviting him to continue.

“Now I know that it’s not just about the win,” Logan replies, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s about the journey. The people who stand by you, who lift you up when you’re down, who make the victories sweeter and the losses bearable. It’s about finding something worth fighting for, and never letting go of it.”

You smile, your fingers intertwining with his. “Sounds like you’ve learned a lot.”

Logan nods, turning his head to look at you. “I have. And it’s all because of you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Not at all,” Logan says, his voice firm. “You’ve been my rock, my anchor. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

You look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Logan …”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice gentle yet unwavering. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You don’t respond with words; instead, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss filled with promises, with unspoken words, and with a love that has grown stronger with every challenge, every victory, every moment shared.

When you finally pull away, Logan rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his heart full. “I love you,” he whispers, the words carrying the weight of all he feels.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as soft, just as full of emotion.

The world fades away as the two of you sit there, wrapped up in each other. Logan knows that there will be more challenges ahead, more races to win, more obstacles to overcome. But as long as he has you by his side, he knows that he can face anything.

Because, in the end, it’s not just about the racing. It’s about the people who make it all worthwhile.

And for Logan Sargeant, that person is you.

As the night deepens and the city quiets, Logan realizes that this is just the beginning. The beginning of a new chapter, a new journey, with you right beside him. And whatever the future holds, he knows one thing for certain:

He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

And with you, he’s already won.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter one

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.4k

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a/n: first series! it won’t be super long, but I hope you enjoy. send requests for more fics!

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“Matt, you can’t back out now!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at your best friend where he lays on his bed, setting his phone down to look up at you.

“I’m sorry, love, something came up and I can’t make it,” he apologizes, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get out of it.”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. You had a family wedding to attend and already RSVP’d with a plus one, which was supposed to be your best friend Matt, who had lovingly agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend for the night. Your family was super invasive about you getting a boyfriend, and you wanted to avoid all of the comments and questions by just pretending to have a boyfriend for one night at the wedding, but your plan was falling apart.

“What am I supposed to do? I already told everyone I was coming with somebody, they’re gonna know I was lying if I show up by myself,” you tell him, trying to rack your brain for any ideas.

“You could bring Nick,” Matt suggests, picking his phone back up and going back to scrolling.

You scoff. “Yeah right, like Nick could pretend to be straight for an entire night. He’d be caught in less than an hour.” You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to Matt. “I’m gonna have to go on, like, Bumble or something and find some random to go with me.”

Matt looks up at you over his phone, waiting for you to lock eyes with him before he starts to speak. “I mean… I know one other guy you could ask.”

You tilt your head, excited to hear the suggestion, before you realize who he’s talking about and your eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. “Absolutely not,” you put your hands up, pointer fingers crossed over in an X. “I am not asking Chris, no way.”

Matt raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I told you I knew someone, I didn’t say you’d like what I said.”

You roll your eyes. “He would never say yes to me anyway, even if I did want to ask him.”

Matt shrugs. “Maybe. You could always bribe him, he loves a good bribe.”

You think about it for another moment, knowing it would be easier to get Chris to do it than it would to find some random guy to go to a wedding as a first date, but the thought of spending an entire night next to Chris made your skin crawl.

The two of you had never really gotten along, even with you being around as much as you were, you guys never clicked, in fact it was the complete opposite, always insulting each other any chance you got, ignoring each other, and always avoiding being in the same room by yourself, even if only for a few moments.

“I mean… I could try but I really can’t promise I won’t kill your brother, Matt,” you half joke, but not really. “Might turn you into a twin.”

“That’s fucked,” Matt laughs, using his foot to kick you lightly. “I‘ll still be a triplet, even if you kill him. I’ll just be a triplet with severe depression and no will no live.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you tell him through a laugh. “Your life would be so much quieter, wouldn’t that be nice? You’d secretly thank me for killing him.”

Matt shakes his head at you with a smile, though his eyes tell you he thinks you’re crazy, before looking back down at his phone.

“Killing who?” A voice sounds from the doorway and you look up to see the man of the hour staring back at you, a disinterested look on his face.

“You,” you smile sweetly up at Chris.

“That’s nice,” he says, flashing you a fake, tight lipped smile before turning to his brother. “Hey, can you take me to go get food?”

Matt groans and throws his head back, closing his eyes. “But I’m so comfortable,” he whines.

You take a deep breath and consider your options. Chris, who you hate but have known for years, or a random guy who might be a serial killer? You’d definitely be safer with Chris, but the thought of having to be near him without his brothers for an entire night seemed like hell. Especially having to act like you were pleased to be in his presence.

“I’ll take you,” you speak before you can stop yourself.

Both Matt and Chris look at you with shocked expressions, Chris having a bit of disgust in his eyes.

“I’d rather starve, thanks,” Chris replies. “Matt, c’mon seriously, can you take me?” He asks again.

“Chris,” you say in a stern voice, standing up from the bed and walking towards him. “Let me take you. I need to talk to you.”

Chris watches you walk past him through the doorway and then looks back at Matt, shooting him a confused look, to which his brother just shrugs, before he leaves to follow you, finding you by the front door slipping your crocs on.

“The fuck is this about?” He asks, trotting down the stairs to meet you by the front door. “You in love with me or some shit?”

You look up at him with an unamused expression. “You wish I was in love with you.” You huff. “I told you, I gotta talk to you.”

You open the front door and head outside towards your car, opening the drivers side door. You look behind you and see Chris standing in the doorway, staring after you. “I’ll buy your food,” you tell him, and he immediately shuts the door behind him and walks up to your car. “You should’ve led with that!” He says.

You both get in your car and you start driving. “Where do you want to go?” You ask him, turning your head to see him on his phone. “Chris,” you push, reaching out to smack his phone out of his hand, causing it to land on the floor.

“What the fuck, dude. Unnecessary.” Chris huffs, reaching down to grab his phone, but he tucked it between his legs instead of going back on it. “I don’t know, McDonald’s?”

You groan. “You always get McDonald’s. Can’t we get like Popeyes or something?”

Chris looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Well I didn’t know you were gonna eat, too, jesus. Sure, Popeyes is fine.” He goes for his phone again, but you reach out and grab his hand, stopping him.

“Wait,” you start. “I actually do need to talk to you.”

Chris sighs and puts his phone away in his pocket completely, looking over at you. “Okay, spit it out then.”

You flash a glare at him quickly before returning your eyes to the road. “So… Matt was going to be my plus one for a wedding I’m going to, but he can’t go anymore because something came up, and I can’t ask Nick because he’s gay and that just won’t work, and so that just leaves you.” You tell him nervously.

“So what if he’s gay, your family homophobic or something?” Chris asks, annoyance lacing his voice.

You sigh and pull into the Popeyes parking lot, pulling into a spot and throwing the car into park before you turn your body to face Chris. “No, they’re not homophobic. It’s just… I kind of told them I was bringing a boyfriend.”

Chris stares at you for a moment before laughing, completely unserious. “You? A boyfriend? That’s hilarious. I can’t believe you’re lying to your family about having a boyfriend.”

You don’t laugh though, you just drop your eyes down to your lap, knowing that this was exactly how the conversation would go.

“Wait a minute, that means you want me to pretend I’m your boyfriend? Fuck no, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life. Forget it, dude, you’re shit outta luck with me.” Chris shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

You nod and start backing out of the spot, heading towards the drive-thru. “Yeah I figured that was how you’d respond,” you murmur.

You guys order your food, and you still pay for it, staying true to your word, before heading home. It was a quick but quiet ride back, both of you getting out of the car without a word, not even a ‘thank you’ shot your way. You take your shoes off and head back up to Matt’s room, seeing him in the same position you left him in, only now he was watching a movie, and you got in his bed to join him with your food.

“How’d it go?” He asked, reaching out to steal one of your fries.

“Exactly how I expected it to go. He laughed in my face and said he’d rather be single for the rest of his life than pretend to be my boyfriend,” you tell Matt, looking down at him from where you sat.

Matt smiles up at you, reaching out to pat your leg. “Sorry, kid. You tried.”

You nod and look up at the tv screen, starting to eat your dinner.

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The next day, you’re sitting on your couch panting your toes and watching your favorite comfort show when you hear the doorbell ring, startling you as you weren’t expecting anybody over today. You look down at your toes and swear under your breath, seeing that you smeared polish along your skin.

You set down the polish on the table and stand up, walking to your door and pulling it open, jaw dropping in shock when you come face to face with Chris, the last person you expected to show up at your door unannounced. You almost wanted to rub your eyes in case you were mistaking him for another triplet, but you knew your eyes didn’t deceive you.

“Chris?” You question. “How did you get here?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I ubered?” He says like it’s obvious. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You take a step back and let him into your house, shutting the door behind him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say, sitting back down on your couch. He follows and sits at the opposite end, looking over at you.

He ignores your question, watching you as you continue to do your toes, cleaning up the mess you made. “Why not just get your toes done?” He asks.

You look at him with an annoyed expression. “Costs money? Why spend money when I can sit around and do it myself?” You go back to painting your toes. “Why are you here?”

Chris shrugs. “Been thinking about what you said yesterday, about the wedding.”

You stop what you’re doing and put the polish back down, turning your attention on Chris completely. “Did you change your mind?” You ask him.

He sighs and licks his lips before speaking. “Consider it my charity for the year,” he smiles, tilting his head at you. “But I need a small favor from you.”

“A favor in return isn’t charity, Chris, it’s like… eye for an eye or whatever.” You look at him deadpan. Of course he’d want something in return, he could never do something for you out of the goodness of his heart.

“Whatever, dude, you want my help or not?” Chris asks. “If not I’ll just leave, doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You huff and give in. “Fine. What’s the favor?” You ask him.

He pulls out his phone, scooting a bit closer to you on the couch. “There’s this girl that will not stop hitting me up and she’s driving me crazy. I told her I’m not interested, I’ve ignored her messages, I even blocked her on snap to see if she’d get the hint but she still texts me every day.” He shows you all of the unanswered messages and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit, what does this girl see in you?” You laugh, reading how desperate she was for Chris.

“Funny,” Chris replies, unamused.

“What does this have to do with me?” You ask him, looking back up at his face.

“I think it’s only fair if I pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding, you pretend to be my girlfriend on social media. Only for a few weeks or until she stops messaging me. Plus, you’re way hotter than her. ” Chris tells you, and by the tone of his voice, he’s completely serious.

You feel heat rising up your neck and you try to get it under control before your cheeks turn red. “You think I’m hot?” You ask him, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Not the point,” he replies.

“So you tell me that you would rather be single for the rest of your life than pretend to be my boyfriend, and now you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?” You clarify, and he just nods, like it’s no big deal. “Pretending to be together at an event is one thing, but you want to take photos to look like a couple? That’s a little… intimate don’t you think?”

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a big boy, you’re a big girl. Don’t think you can handle a little physical touch without falling for me?” He smirks, leaning in closer to you.

You grimace and reach up to push his shoulder away. “Gross, dude. I could have sex with you and still not fall in love with you and your terrible personality.”

Chris gasps, fake shocked, throwing a hand to his chest. “I am a very good lover, why do you think this girl won’t stop texting me?”

Your eyes widen. “You had sex with her?!” You shriek. “Chris, no wonder she keeps blowing your shit up!”

Chris groans and throws his head back, leaning it on the back of the couch. “It was supposed to be a one time thing, I don’t know why she’s so hung up on me!”

You find yourself giggling a bit before you stop and clear your throat, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of making you laugh. You compose yourself and shake your head, clearly disappointed in the boy across from you. “Fine, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but no kissing! I draw the line at kissing.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry, I don’t want to kiss you,” Chris cringes. “So… I guess we should start planning this?”

You nod and smile towards him, placing your hands in your lap as you guys start to figure out how to execute both individual plans.

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a/n: this chapter is SUPER short but it’s kinda just to get a feel of the fic and how it’s gonna play out. I really hope you guys like this series im so nervous about it!!

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@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696